Infertiles & Their Pets

My childhood cat. Oh, how I miss him, even if I did have to use an inhaler to be around him

 (my step-father got him in the divorce.)

The last couple of weeks have been insane. This semester of grad school is winding down (only 1 month to go), and with it comes the slew of final papers, projects, and presentations. On top of that, I started a new medication last month, and I have been crazy tired and forgetful. Hence, the blog has taken a backseat the last few weeks (and therefore, reading your blog(s), too).

...which leads me to the subject of pets (random, I know). I know many people have pets, especially when they don't have any children. I personally don't have any pets right now, but part of me really wants something to cuddle when I get home from work. I have come to the conclusion, though, that I would not be a good pet owner right now. Limited time, resources, and space lead me to believe that I wouldn't be able to give a pet the attention and space it would deserve.

Anyway, when I was visiting my best friend several months ago, the topic of pets came up. One of our other close friends has a dog (and recently, after some infertility problems, became pregnant). Another woman in the conversation then stated:

"Why do people without kids think they need to get pets? It's stupid."

I was a little taken aback by the statement. I don't think she understands the need to have something to come home to. Not everyone is a pet person. In fact, I never really thought I would want pets, but I do. Really badly. I want to know that someone is depending on me. That someone loves me and cares for me. That I need them just as they need me. I don't have those precious little kids yet, but I totally understand why others have pets, infertile or not.

Darn those pet allergies!

---Mrs. M.

Why I Choose To Be Anonymous

    

Don't worry, folks...these pics are super old.

To me, some of the best blogs are ones that give great insight into the author's life. I love seeing pictures of bloggers and hearing about their weekends. Putting names with faces makes things more realistic for me.

When I started this blog a few months ago, I wanted so much to be transparent. Finally, I was going to share with the world who I was and what I really go through on a daily basis living with infertility. I thought that if I could help just one person get through a few bad days, I would have succeeded.

The time came, and I decided that I would be somewhat anonymous on my blog. Of course, I use snippets of my own pictures and call myself Mrs. M., (which I suppose could be traced back to me if someone REALLY wanted to stalk me), but I don't show my face or use my full name. It is difficult to keep things descriptive, yet vague enough that should someone I know stumble across this blog, they won't realize it is me.

So why am I anonymous?

1. My family. I have not officially told my mother or Mr. M.'s parents that we are dealing with infertility. They may assume as much, but I have never told them. I have done this for specific purposes. I don't want unsolicited advice, nosey questions, or forced conversations on the topic. I also don't want this news spread around to the whole world just yet (which would probably happen if some of them knew). I also don't think some of the parties involved here would be supportive and/or understanding of this struggle. For example, Mr. M. is one of 7 children, and my mother got pregnant on her honeymoon and never had morning sickness for any of her 3 pregnancies. Infertility doesn't really cross my mother's mind.

2. My friends. Only a select few know that we are dealing with infertility, and even some of those people aren't supportive. I don't want it to take over my friendships.

3. My privacy. Does everyone I know in real life really need to know what it is I am doing with my husband in order to make a baby? Really?

4. The crazies. If everyone knew that I had an infertility blog and wrote about the crazy things people do and say, they wouldn't be so crazy. They would edit themselves. Then I wouldn't be able to give an authentic depiction of what really goes on when one is dealing with infertility.

I do have a family blog, which I suppose I could direct readers to. As long as my family blog isn't connected to this one, I might be ok. I don't know, though.

So, what do you think? Why are you anonymous (or not anonymous)? Am I just paranoid?


---Mrs. M.

Starting A Family

Mr. M. and me at our wedding reception almost 6 years ago.

One particular Saturday in February, I was feeling especially distraught about the infertility Mr. M and I have experienced. I had a church meeting to attend that evening, and was able to pull myself together enough to meet Mr. M. there. The meeting wasn't bad, especially since it was a meeting just for adults (no children to further my anguish).

After the session was over, I remained in my seat and overheard a conversation between an elderly man and a young couple.

At one point, the older gentleman asked the couple: "Have you started a family yet?" The couple responded with a laugh and comment about their "two dogs." I think it was a little awkward for them, even though they were gracious about it.

I told Mr. M. about this and how I don't like when people ask me about "starting a family." He said it was a dumb question because we started our family 6 years ago when we got married. That was the start of our family. The two of us.

That, to me, was the perfect response.


---Mrs. M.

Best Friend Say What?

Elle and Mr. Elle cutting their cake.

I have a best friend, and I'll call her Elle. Elle had a baby last spring--her first baby. Two weeks after the baby was born, I flew across the country to help her with him. We had a great time, and it was nice to see her and hold a tiny baby. That was almost a year ago.

In January, Mr. M. and I flew across the country to visit Elle and her family again. At one point, Elle and I were in the car together--alone, finally.

As we went through the Subway drive-thru (because apparently, Subway has a drive-thru out west), she brought up the subject of infertility (specifically mine and Mr. M.'s). As she handed her credit card through the window, she turned to me, and nonchalantly asked, "Are you even trying right now?"

At that moment, a flood of thoughts and emotions went through my mind. For Elle, "trying" to have a baby took one month. No waiting required. Not even one negative pregnancy test. Did she think that because I wasn't pregnant, I must not really be "trying?" I know that she isn't that naive, but the question caught me off guard.

All I could manage to dejectedly answer was, "Well, right now, I'm just trying to pay off my $2,000 blood work bill. When I'm done with that, I'll start saving for the next appointment."

And with that, the conversation was done. Not done because I put her in her place. Not done because she finally understood, but done because we got a distraction in the form of our ham-and-provolone-on-wheat subs and drove home.

Apparently, if I am not forking over thousands of dollars on a monthly basis, I'm not really "trying."

---Mrs. M.

Dr. C.

(source)

Warning: I wrote this post a few hours after meeting with Dr. C. I was not feeling my best emotionally or physically that day, and I believe my thoughts were a little dramatic. I do think, however, it is valuable for me to post this. Sometimes in the throes of infertility, the intense emotions we express can get the better of us. In being true to myself and depicting the real feelings I experienced, I have decided to post it. It doesn't do anyone any good (especially myself) to portray dealing with infertility as always a positive and rational experience. 

Dr. C. is not my favorite person. He is a psychiatrist. He is not a psychologist. There is a difference. Psychiatrists are medical doctors who are able to prescribe medication. Psychologists have Ph.Ds in Psychology and are usually employed as counselors, therapists, etc. Dr. C. is most certainly a psychiatrist.

The first time I met with him, for an intake interview about the possibility of starting a low-dose anti-depressant, he seemed rather impersonal. In fact, he expected me to come up with the answers AND the questions to illicit those answers. He didn't do much to keep the interview going. It was a good day for me, so I decided to help him out by talking more and anticipating his questions.

This time, I was to meet with him for 15 minutes to tell him what I thought about the possibility of taking medication, since I was somewhere in the middle (between not needing medication and needing it---so helpful, right?). I sit down and Dr. C. doesn't say anything. He just stares at me with giant frog eyes.

So I stare back.

He then asks, rather awkwardly, "so....?" I finally tell him that I am apprehensive about taking the medication because I want to get pregnant and I should probably not be taking medication when pregnant (birth defects, etc.). He tells me there is no good evidence to show that there is a problem with taking medication while pregnant (...did you even read the side effects tab to that particular medication?). He states that millions of women have taken it while pregnant. I rebuttal with a "Millions of women who don't have a hard time getting pregnant." He then states, like I am the dumbest girl in the world, that that "isn't true, since infertility is such a common problem."

I give him the look of death.

It was at this point that I wanted to smack him, and smack him hard. He acts like this is no bid deal---that infertility is so common, and that being pregnant is the unusual case. Dr. C. is no Mr. Sensitivity. I start sobbing in the chair, telling him that I may finally have the opportunity to start fertility treatments again, and I don't want to jeopardize my chances with this medication.

It was the longest 10 minutes of my life, because there was no way I was going to keep up the conversation, by myself, for 15. At the end, as he is writing a script for the medication, he asks what fertility treatments I will be trying soon.

REALLY? You barely talk to me, make insensitive comments about my insecurities with your medication you haven't even personally told me about, and then want to know intimate, medical information not related to the medication you are prescribing for me?

The only thing I can think of that may redeem him in some small, small way would be if he was dealing with infertility, too. I did see him play with his wedding band when the topic of infertility was discussed. So, unless he was trying to get info from me about how to proceed with his own issue, I'm pretty sure I will loathe every time I have to see that man. I guess it doesn't matter whether he has infertility issues or not, though, since he can't seem to carry a conversation with a client for 15 minutes.

Thank goodness for psychologists. They have souls.

In hindsight, as I read this, I am a little embarrassed by my complaints. And especially that I implied psychiatrists don't have souls (hello, dramatic!). I know psychiatrists who are kind, lovely people. I also know psychologists who are mean-spirited and unaccepting. I won't make any excuses for Dr. C.'s lack of people skills, but I will say that I don't "loathe" him (just being with him). Either way, I think it is normal to have intense reactions towards emotionally charged situations. I am grateful I have the good sense to vent in less destructive ways.


UPDATE: I met with my psychologist/counselor (the pregnant one), and I relayed this experience to her. She told me that she knows Dr. C. doesn't have any children, and perhaps he felt infertility was "common" because he has experienced it, too. She definitely agrees about the social skills, though.


---Mrs. M.

I Don't Have to Be Friends With Everyone

(source)

I am learning something important: I don't have to be friends with everyone.

I listened to a webinar this week about running counseling groups for girls in a K-12 setting. The presenter was Julia V. Taylor, and she stated that as girls get older, they don't learn how to socialize well with one another. In elementary school, it is sometimes customary to invite everyone from your class to your birthday party. However, as time passes, girls create closer friendships with others and not being invited to the birthday party or sleepover causes hurt feelings. Sometimes instead of talking about these feelings, girls talk about each other. We are expected to be nice, and sometimes this is difficult if we don't really like others (as we are expected to).

In my own life, I have felt that it is necessary for me to try to be friends with everyone. My philosophy is that "everyone needs a friend." I stand by that mantra. However, I don't always have to be that friend. 

There is a woman who I met at church (which is where I feel especially pressured to be friends with everyone) who I am having a difficult time liking. On paper, it seems like we could be great friends: same church, similar undergraduate experiences, artistic and musical interests, same values, both married. However, something is not clicking. At all. 

At first I thought it was her pregnancy. She was very pregnant and not even married for a full year yet. She flaunted it. She complained about it. She made a spectacle of herself and how "miserable" she was. Then she had the baby and I thought, "Great! She can stop, and we can be friends." Not so. She made comments about her "superhuman" qualities for giving birth without an epidural and complained about her baby (crying, not sleeping, having a faux-hawk at only 2 weeks old).

It was too much for me and I did the ultimate friend-cleansing ritual: I blocked her from my facebook feed (so significant, right?). I also stopped going to an activity that she helps to run because I can't take the baby-ness. Mr. M still goes, and that is fine with me. I just know where my emotional limits are.

I also still see her at church where I am friendly in every way, and I don't feel guilty. I feel relieved. I have wanted to be friends for 8 months, but mostly because my feelings for her were negative and I didn't want to feel that way. However, I now feel quite freed. She can be herself, and I can be myself, and it is OK. 

Goodbye, Baby-Flaunter. 

  

---Mrs. M.

You're So Young

I have been dealing with infertility for well over three years now. Because I am in my late twenties and also in graduate school, I often have people say to me, "You're so young! You have plenty of time for kids!"

I hate this.

I know that all around the world people get married much later in life than they used to. Women have careers and couples wait to have children much more than they did in the 50s. My grandmother got married at the age of 17--this rarely happens nowadays (and aren't we all rightfully aghast when it does happen?). However, I have been married for almost six years, and the last time I checked, infertility gets worse with age.

So the comment about me being "so young?"

Not. Helping.

Has anyone ever said this to you? How do you respond?


---Mrs. M.

In This Economy

Cutting up that credit card. Penny-pinching in this economy is hard enough without incurring more debt

 (or children, according to some).

This past weekend, a friend from graduate school called to schedule a time to meet about an assignment. This woman is lovely. She has two kids of her own, and after an abusive marriage of 20+ years, she left her husband several months ago. Times are rough with her working 3 jobs and taking night classes. Right now, she is very stressed about her many responsibilities, and rightfully so. As we were talking, she expressed feeling overwhelmed about the prospect of buying a house. The conversation was about her the whole time (which I was fine with), until the following exchange:

Classmate: "I know you want kids, but in this economy....maybe you should be counting your blessings that you don't have any."

Me: Silence.

Classmate: "You know? ...in this economy...count your blessings..."

Me: Silence. "Well, just keep doing your best, and you will make it. School can be rough."

Let it be known: I would rather have kids and be poor than not have kids and be rich. Right now, I neither have kids, nor am I rich. Talk about your hands being tied! I want kids. For me, I need to have money to pursue that route, as infertility treatments are ex-pen-sive! However, I have no money. Really. Mr. M. & I are in school, and he has been unemployed for well over a year (he JUST got a new job).

No Money = No Treatments = No Children.

I told Mr. M that the conversation was a little crazy to me because it wasn't as if I wanted to buy a brand new car "in this economy." I want to have children--I want a family. This is my future, not a means of transportation.

When I told Mr. M  this, he stated that "some people have it so backwards." He meant that some people think it is only good to have kids after finding massive financial security. Let me tell you--I will probably never have total financial security. As soon as I feel like I have a little money set aside for emergencies, an emergency happens--surgery, car repairs, travel to a funeral. There is never a "good financial time" to have a baby, because you will always find something else to spend your money on.

I get it, Classmate---you are stressed. You need to provide for your children. You need to be physically and emotionally present for them. It would be easier for you if you were a twenty-something college student with no children, but please do not mistake what would be easier for you with what would be easier for me. They are not the same, and that's ok.

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.

A Grateful Mother

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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.