So my sister is having a really rough time of it lately. She just ended a long-term relationship and is pretty much having to re-define her life plans. It's been devastating for her. She calls me several times a week in tears, just sobbing and sobbing about how hard this is for her and how she feels like it's never going to feel better.
It's been interesting for me to listen to her in relation to my own issues surrounding fertility. And it reminds me that pain is all so relative - what seems like a big deal to some isn't to others, and yet everyone's got something...some issue or problem or challenge in their life that sometimes makes it hard to go through life each day. As I was reminding my sister of this fact earlier tonight, I told myself that I needed to take my own advice..
On a somewhat unrelated topic, today I want to write down on paper some of my only child fears. I know some of them are irrational or unjustifiable, but nevertheless, they exist in my head and I worry a lot about them. I'll put them into categories for easy digestion:
LONELINESS:
*Our home will seem empty and quiet in comparison to others
*No friends will want to play here because of the above fact
*Jenna will become a loner as an adult
*Jenna will hate family vacations because she won't have anyone to play with
*I will be lonely as a mother
SOCIAL ISOLATION/DYSFUNCTION
*Jenna will feel left out when others talk about siblings
*Jenna will never learn to "share" appropriately
*Jenna will always rely on dad or mom to entertain her at home
*Jenna will always want more attention than she can get from teachers and other adults
*Jenna will not learn good boundaries with other kids
*Jenna will be so bossy that no one will want to play with her
*I will expect too much of her
*I will "over-mother" her in my attempt to make up for the fact that she's an only
EXPLANATION OF WHY SHE'S AN ONLY
*I dread the day Jenna starts asking for a sister/brother
*I want her to understand that we really wanted her to have siblings, but it just didn't work out that way....is that ok?
THE DREADED BIGGIES
*What on earth will I do if something happened to her?
*What on earth will she do if something happens to me?
Today is also Cycle Day 1. This is the first time in a very, very long time that I haven't rushed on to FF and started a new online chart. To be exact, the first time since July 2005. Don't get me wrong, I'm DYING to. But I'm resisting temptation. I thought I'd just write it down on here instead :)
22 October 2007
03 October 2007
thoughts on gratitude.
So, I left work early and decided to give myself permission to grieve, since today is seemingly turning into that kind of day.
I spent some time writing a letter to Jenna that I've been wanting to write for awhile now. Since my mom died two years before her birth, I wasn't able to benefit from the encouraging and soothing words of wisdom that only a mother can provide for her daughter as she becomes a mother herself. And while I fully expect to be around to witness my own daughter's transformation to motherhood, I am also acutely aware that things happen, even to the best of people. So I've wanted to write down some of my own thoughts about motherhood for Jenna - so that no matter what, she has those to read.
That was very healing.
And it also brought up a lot of sadness and grief about my own mother. So, after writing that letter, I sat down and read through (for the first time) a book that my dad put together for my sister and I right after my mom died. It is mostly a compilation of diary entries that she did on a great website called Caring Bridge, and also the messages that people left for her on this site. I read through every page, and I cried and I cried and I cried. It felt wonderful!
As I was reading her logs, I was amazed at the way that, despite being diagnosed at 54 with a fatal disease that held very limited treatment options, she was able to express such gratitude for the outpouring of support she was receiving. She started every post by thanking the various people that had either visited her, sent her cards or in other ways showed their support. I'm sure she did this not only as a reminder to herself of the many people who cared and loved her, but also so that her support network felt acknowledged. She was just so self-less that way. Always wanting other people to feel as though they mattered.
And then I had this deep recognition that I am soooooo NOT doing that. And I should. Because I too, have a very wide support network of people that love and care about me. And though I am not dying and do not have a fatal disease, I am hurting very much. And people do care. And I should acknowledge that and be grateful for them.
So, in that spirit, I wish to give thanks to the many people who have supported my journey to have another baby. First and foremost, my family. Steve has never complained once about the many times he has had to get up early to head to the clinic to leave a "sample". My Dad and his new wife, who graciously and without blinking an eye, offered to pay for my IVF cycle. And my sister, whose wise optimism always reminds me of what's truly important. I also am so blessed to have the absolute best in-laws there ever was - including two sisters in-law who have both experienced miscarriages and trials similar to my own. How thankful I am for Terese, Dee, Carolyn, Jim, Marilyn and Jim.
Then there's my online community. I have so many online friends, most of whom I've never met in person, who've shared this journey with me over the years. I am so thankful and grateful for their continued support and (in some instances) our shared journeys: Melissa, Mary Ann, Devan, Jessica, Heidi, Andi, Judy, Kate - just to name a few. I know some of you still check in on my blog, and I want you to know it does not go un-noticed. Thank You.
Then there's my best friends in real life -- Amanda, Cheryl, Shannon - who have cried with me, drank wine with me, and allowed me to spend way more time that was necessary talking about this fertility crap. And my work crew who allowed me to miss many hours of work to travel to the doctor and who will continue to support me 100%.
And of course, my dear, precious daughter. My daughter who feels my pain and can always tell when I'm feeling down. My daughter, who reminds me that I *am* a mother.
Thank You. Thank You.
I spent some time writing a letter to Jenna that I've been wanting to write for awhile now. Since my mom died two years before her birth, I wasn't able to benefit from the encouraging and soothing words of wisdom that only a mother can provide for her daughter as she becomes a mother herself. And while I fully expect to be around to witness my own daughter's transformation to motherhood, I am also acutely aware that things happen, even to the best of people. So I've wanted to write down some of my own thoughts about motherhood for Jenna - so that no matter what, she has those to read.
That was very healing.
And it also brought up a lot of sadness and grief about my own mother. So, after writing that letter, I sat down and read through (for the first time) a book that my dad put together for my sister and I right after my mom died. It is mostly a compilation of diary entries that she did on a great website called Caring Bridge, and also the messages that people left for her on this site. I read through every page, and I cried and I cried and I cried. It felt wonderful!
As I was reading her logs, I was amazed at the way that, despite being diagnosed at 54 with a fatal disease that held very limited treatment options, she was able to express such gratitude for the outpouring of support she was receiving. She started every post by thanking the various people that had either visited her, sent her cards or in other ways showed their support. I'm sure she did this not only as a reminder to herself of the many people who cared and loved her, but also so that her support network felt acknowledged. She was just so self-less that way. Always wanting other people to feel as though they mattered.
And then I had this deep recognition that I am soooooo NOT doing that. And I should. Because I too, have a very wide support network of people that love and care about me. And though I am not dying and do not have a fatal disease, I am hurting very much. And people do care. And I should acknowledge that and be grateful for them.
So, in that spirit, I wish to give thanks to the many people who have supported my journey to have another baby. First and foremost, my family. Steve has never complained once about the many times he has had to get up early to head to the clinic to leave a "sample". My Dad and his new wife, who graciously and without blinking an eye, offered to pay for my IVF cycle. And my sister, whose wise optimism always reminds me of what's truly important. I also am so blessed to have the absolute best in-laws there ever was - including two sisters in-law who have both experienced miscarriages and trials similar to my own. How thankful I am for Terese, Dee, Carolyn, Jim, Marilyn and Jim.
Then there's my online community. I have so many online friends, most of whom I've never met in person, who've shared this journey with me over the years. I am so thankful and grateful for their continued support and (in some instances) our shared journeys: Melissa, Mary Ann, Devan, Jessica, Heidi, Andi, Judy, Kate - just to name a few. I know some of you still check in on my blog, and I want you to know it does not go un-noticed. Thank You.
Then there's my best friends in real life -- Amanda, Cheryl, Shannon - who have cried with me, drank wine with me, and allowed me to spend way more time that was necessary talking about this fertility crap. And my work crew who allowed me to miss many hours of work to travel to the doctor and who will continue to support me 100%.
And of course, my dear, precious daughter. My daughter who feels my pain and can always tell when I'm feeling down. My daughter, who reminds me that I *am* a mother.
Thank You. Thank You.
When will this get easier?
I know I'm impatient, seeing as it's only been 2 weeks since we made the decision to stop treatments. But I am so sick and tired of having every other day be a sad fertility day. I'm ready to move on - yet I don't want to give up. I'm in limbo. Stuck in the middle. And I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to make a decision in order to move on.
I checked out a book at the library about Parenting your Only Child - but I can't seem to bring myself to open it. I don't WANT to parent an only child, dammit! How can this be happening to me?
Thank god for my first therapy appointment next Tuesday. I am a basketcase.
It's all I can do not to email Steve and tell him I made a mistake, I want to go forward with another IVF try. Let's give it all we've got.
What if there's something really wrong with me? Maybe I should get another HSG? Or maybe I need a lap?
God, I'm a mess.
I checked out a book at the library about Parenting your Only Child - but I can't seem to bring myself to open it. I don't WANT to parent an only child, dammit! How can this be happening to me?
Thank god for my first therapy appointment next Tuesday. I am a basketcase.
It's all I can do not to email Steve and tell him I made a mistake, I want to go forward with another IVF try. Let's give it all we've got.
What if there's something really wrong with me? Maybe I should get another HSG? Or maybe I need a lap?
God, I'm a mess.
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