Part of That World

Last weekend I was watching the most adorable video of a little girl singing the song “Part of That World” from Disney’s The Little Mermaid, and I found myself getting pretty emotional. I had to push back the growing lump in my throat and save it for later because I was visiting KM, and her son was sitting in my lap watching the video with me. Instead of exploring how I was feeling and why, I talked to him about how nice the video was.

Later that night once everyone was in bed, I laid down and listened to the song again. Immediately tears started pouring down my face and I was muffling my sobs into a blanket. What was it about this video, this song, that was leading to a meltdown?! Even writing about it almost a week later is causing tears to prick at my eyes. Let me break down why this song affected me so strongly.

Look at this stuff, isn’t it neat? Wouldn’t you think my collection’s complete? Wouldn’t you think I’m the girl- the girl who has everything? 

Look at this trove, treasures untold. How many wonders can one cavern hold? Looking around here you think, sure, she’s got everything.

I’ve got gadgets and gizmos a-plenty. I’ve got whozits and whatzits galore. You want thingamabobs? I’ve got twenty! But who cares? No big deal, I want more.

To anyone looking in on my life, it is obvious that I am truly blessed. I have a life that so many would envy. I have a wonderful marriage to an amazing man who makes me feel safe and happy. We don’t really fight. Sure, we may bicker, but our arguments are always easily resolved. I have a supportive, loving extended family. I have lots of close friends, many of whom I have known for over 10 years. I have every material thing that I need, and a lot of what I want as well. I have four awesome cats who actually get along and like to hang out with their humans when we are home. My health is pretty good, I have a very enjoyable job, and the list just keeps going. I know that I have an enviable life, and yet it isn’t enough.

I wanna be where the people are I wanna see, wanna see them dancin’! Walking around on those – what do you call ’em? Oh – feet!

Flippin’ your fins, you don’t get too far. Legs are required for jumping, dancing. Strolling along down a – what’s that word again? Street

I want to be a mom so much. There is a constant, aching emptiness in my life that so many wonderful things simply cannot fill. I want to be someone’s mommy. I want to be like other people, who never have to endure procedures, surgeries, transfers, and failed attempts when trying to build a family. I want to be a mommy without it being something clinical, and that is something that I cannot have. I feel like I’ve been stuck at the same point in my life ever since we started trying to conceive. 

Up where they walk, up where they run. Up where they stay all day in the sun. Wanderin’ free – wish I could be Part of that world.

I feel like I’m still trapped underwater while so many people have been able to break the surface and make it to the shores of parenthood. I want that life too. I’m ready to move forward with my life,  and I don’t know how to reach the next stage in my life if I’m not a parent. Being a mommy is really all that I want at this point in my life, and I hate that it’s the one thing that I cannot make happen for myself. 

What would I give if I could live out of these waters? What would I pay to spend a day warm on the sand? Bet’cha on land they understand, bet they don’t reprimand their daughter.  Bright young women sick of swimmin’, ready to stand,

I’m ready to know what the people know. Ask ’em my questions and get some answers.What’s a fire and why does it – what’s the word? Burn?

We visited the zoo the same day that I watched the video, and it was really difficult for me. I don’t know where I fit in anymore. There were lots of mommies by themselves or in pairs exploring the zoo with their children in tow. I was following along with KM as we tried to keep up with her four year old son. But, she could have managed without me, and I knew I was there to keep them company. I enjoyed the day, but at the same point I felt like I had no real purpose. I want to have a child to bring to the zoo with my friends and their kids. I want to be part of their world. Instead there is this invisible barrier of infertility that no one can see, but that keeps me from being more than an observer.

When’s it my turn? Wouldn’t I love, love to explore that shore up above? Out of the sea. Wish I could be. Part of that world.

With every passing day of infertility, the hole in my heart gets bigger. Each time I think I cannot handle another moment, I’m forced to find a way to continue on this path. I want so much, and am so ready, to be a parent. I just wish I knew how much longer I will have to wait. How much longer until I can go to the shores of parenthood.  I’m ready to be part of that world, but for now I am not.

Here’s a link to the video so you can cry too:

Three year old Claire sings Part of That World

IVF 1- At the starting line

In preparation for my IVF, I just paid a huge chunk of money to my RE, plus more money to the pharmacies for my meds. This is officially happening; I’m moving from mini IVF to a full fledged IVF.

My meds came in from the UK, and the packaging is so strange. Each dose comes with powder in a tiny glass vial, and a weird vial made entirely of glass:

Apparently, we’ll have to break off the top of the vial and add the liquid to the powder. There are a number of mornings where we’ll have to do this 5 times to make up one dose of meds. The thought of this is mind boggling! I called my REs office to ask what I was supposed to do with these vials, and the nurse reassured me that they’ll show me how to open the vials when the time comes to start (in a little more than 2 weeks).

My package from MDR pharmacy came on Tuesday, and there is a staggering amount of meds in that box as well. I need to lay all of the meds out and get a picture sometime soon. I can’t believe that all of them will go into my body in the next month.

I started BC on Monday, which was CD42. I never had a period after I lost Ember. I had a few days of very slight spotting, but no full cycle. I took an HPT on CD35 and it was negative. I double checked that it was ok to start BC without having a period, and the nurses reassured me that it would be fine.

I start my Lupron injections next weekend. We’ll be visiting hubbys parents, so I’ll have to do them away from home. Lupron is actually pretty easy for me and doesn’t require much thought and pretty much no worry at all. We did PIO at their place after my FET, and that was much more difficult than this will be.

Also, I met with my hematologist for the first time about two weeks ago. He was very nice, but I felt like a bit of an impostor. The practice is in a cancer center, and I just know that everyone there has so much more to worry about. The hematologist was very nice, but said that my case is unusual because I was diagnosed and hadn’t had a clots yet. He said that the meds for my IVF seem fine, but he emphasized that I will be going into a pregnancy knowing that because of my clotting disorder I will be high risk. He warned me that I’m more likely to have complications from the blood thinners than I am to have a clot while I’m pregnant, but now that I know about my Factor V, I’m not willing to be without the blood thinners during pregnancy. I went in for additional blood work, which should reveal more about my clotting risk.

Honestly, I am really, incredibly nervous for my IVF. I’m very afraid that we will go to all this trouble and expense and still not have a baby. I know I’m supposed to think positively, and I really do try, but the fear is pretty constant as well. I keep wondering when we will have to draw the line. My RE offers a package where we’ll only pay an additional $3500 total for three more rounds of IVF, but it will still cost an additional $7000 per cycle between the surgery center fees and meds. I don’t know if I want to pour all that we have into IVF, or if I need to draw the line and start the process of adoption. I’m feeling much more open to the idea of adoption, but I’m not completely ready yet. For now, all of my hope is on this round of IVF and my remaining Frosty from my Minis.

So, that’s where I’m at for IVF #1. Confused, scared, and yet also a little bit hopeful.

I Just Fired My Therapist

It has officially been one year since I started seeing my RE for infertility treatment. As someone who is prone to… I won’t call it depression, but instead a range of sad emotions and the tendency to get stuck in that mindset- it has been an incredibly difficult year emotionally. With two failed IUIs, two mini IVFs, an embryo transfer that resulted in a biochemical pregnancy, and the recent diagnosis of a clotting disorder, not to mention our robbery in November, I haven’t been in the best place. So, I decided to start seeing a therapist. I asked my general physician to refer me to a psychologist, preferably someone who had experience with infertility.

Enter Dr. L. I had my first appointment last week. I don’t know what it is about therapy, but it’s just somewhere that encourages crying. I was already near tears before I was even called back from the waiting room. I entered the office, and there was a couch for me, with… a dog on it. Seriously?! She had to scoot the dog over to make room for me on the couch. Then she sat in some weird leather lounge chair, leaned back, and expected me to talk.

So I talked. I started with the most recent issue of the clotting disorder and how it related to my infertility. Dr. L then asked me if I would consider surrogacy. What the heck!? I told her no, that surrogacy was not something I was ready or needed to consider at that time. I shook off the surrogacy comment, and continued to discuss the clotting disorder. Specifically, the nagging feeling that I should be telling my birth family about the issue because they might be unaware of the risks it could cause to their health. This lead to a conversation about my adoption and the relationship with my birth mother. She then asked how long it had been since I had contacted my REAL mother. Again, what the heck? I corrected her and said that my birth mother was basically a surrogate for my adoption, and my real mother was the person who raised me. After my session, I became really angry about this one. What if we aren’t able to conceive and need to adopt to complete our family? Will the birth mom be the real mother in that case? What does that mean for me? I don’t believe this for a second and I’m floored that she would be so insensitive. A mother is the person who raises the child, not the person who gave birth to them. Unfortunately, the story doesn’t end here…

I continued to talk, and told Dr. L about my recent chemical pregnancy, and this was when the tears really started to flow. She explained that even though the pregnancy lasted a few days, it really was the loss of a child, and that I needed to grieve this loss. She suggested doing so by journaling about the loss, as well as the hopes I had for this child. I had to write in an actual journal and not in a blog, because apparently the act of writing with an instrument engages the brain more. Ok, this was good advice. We were finally getting somewhere.

Then, out of nowhere, Dr. L asked HOW LONG I HAVE BEEN THIS SIZE! Excuse me!?!? What does my weight have to do with the fact that I’m not coping well with all that I’ve been through? She said that the wheat in this country is full of bad chemicals because of Monsanto, and that sugar and bad carbs are directly linked to depression and anxiety. It was really weird, and felt like she was pushing her own personal agenda onto me. Oh, and because I was crying she insisted that I was depressed. She told me that I needed to be in my best physical shape in order to have a successful transfer and pregnancy, and even suggested that I put off my IVF until I lost weight.

As someone who is already struggles with body image issues, this was really hard to sit through. If I wanted weight loss advice I would go to a nutritionist. I came to her for coping strategies. Because she had brought up my diet, I asked how to shift my view of food and exercise, because I know that the way I think isn’t normal. I see food as comfort or a reward, and exercise as punishment for being fat. She didn’t have a thing to say to help with this, and just insisted that I needed to eat well (organic) and exercise.

I left my first session with Dr. L feeling pretty confused, but I was willing to give her another chance. I journaled for a few days about my loss, but it started to feel really repetitive. The hopes I had for the baby that I lost are the same hopes I still have for when I become a mother. I decided to go back on a South Beach style diet, and lost one pound before my next session, which was yesterday.

I walk in for my appointment and was greeted by her fluffy white dog, who immediately started GROWLING at me. Dr. L came out after about a minute of this and took the dog back to her office, and told me she’ll be with me in a minute. Again, therapists office=tears, so I was near tears, but this time it was because her dog had growled at me for no reason. When I got to her office, the dog was on the couch in the available seat (again), and she had to move it so that I could sit down.

I began the session by talked to Dr. L about a fight I had with my mom the previous weekend. I had been at my parents house for dinner on Saturday, and I was talking to my brother about dealing with the insurance agency to replace our stolen belongings. I was told him that I felt screwed over by our insurance because we have to replace everything and then ask for a reimbursement. Instead of taking my side, or even just listening, my mom interrupted the conversation to tell me that I was being unfair to the insurance agency, and that they’re just protecting their interests. I was pretty angry, but just sat there because it was my brothers birthday weekend and he was in from out of town. After a few minutes of silence from me my mom told me to stop pouting. After I told this story to Dr. L, she said that I need to be in the most positive space possible for my upcoming IVF, and that I should try to not see my mom in the weeks leading up to my procedure. Excuse me!? Yes, this was a bad instance, but I think everyone has moments like this with their parents. 90% of the time my mom and I get along really, really well. She is a main part of my support system for my infertility, and Dr. L told me to not see her. How about some strategies to deal with instances like this? That could have been useful.

Dr. L asked how I was feeling about my upcoming IVF, and I told her that I wanted to be excited, but at this point I was mostly nervous and worried. I told her about the transfer and how painful it was. She said it sounded like rape, which was a really weird thing to say. Again, I only got one useful piece of advice from the whole session, which was to ask my RE if I could have something to help me be calm for the transfer, and also something for the pain, so that the transfer would be less traumatic.

Then, Dr. L spent the next 20 minutes going on about my diet and exercise. I asked again for advice to help with my views on food and exercise, and she offered nothing. I asked for coping strategies to get me through the battle with infertility, and I got no response, just a nod. I left the second session feeling like I wasn’t sure I should continue seeing her. I talked to my friend C that night, since she has gone to school for marriage and family therapy. She said this lady is a nut job and to stop seeing her and find someone else. I called Dr. L today and told her that the services she was offering were not what I was looking for, and asked her to remove me from her schedule. I also told her to not call me back.

So, that’s the story of why I had to fire my therapist.

I was making flannel babies for my preschool storytime, and I accidentally made a baby Trump.