What About Me?

As I was standing in the check out line at the grocery store the other night the cashier noticed the couple in front of me with the newborn baby.  Of course the cashier began adoring the baby.  My mind was filled with all the bitter things that one infertile could think of.  Along with the "I fucking hate babies" thought.  But the second though that came into my head: "what about me?"  

You can't really tell how long a couple has been TTC by just looking at them.  They could have been TTC for a whole two months, or did IVF after five years.  I admit I automatically go with the first of those two options.  Odds are they couldn't tell you much about most fertility treatments.  The "what about me" question pops into my head when, even though I have no proof, I believe I have been waiting longer for my baby while someone else is getting attention for their newborn.  I think of not just the months we have been TTC for, but years.  I have "done my time" with fertility treatment and think of my past loss.  To be absolutely honest I'm envious.  I wish some cashier (or anyone) was looking at my baby and tell me how beautiful s/he was.  But they are not.  I fall off the radar.  I am non-existent because I'm not a mommy.

I deserve some good attention.  Not some depressing crap when people ask how my fertility treatment is going.  It's going just as crappy as the last time they asked.  But I'd love for someone to look at my big belly, or my newborn or child, and compliment it.  

One of the things that upsets me the most and I was never given a chance at being a mother.  We can think for great mothers out there.  But we can also all think of horrible ones ether from the news or those we actually know.  The women that doesn't deserve to be mothers, or can't take care of the children she already has.  I'm not saying I'm going to be the absolute best mum on the face of the planet, no one it that.  But I have to be better than some of those other examples.  Why is it when the stork comes around to give their baby handouts for the month I am always passed up?  And every other infertile women.  Honestly, we can't be that bad of a future mother.  We are never even given a chance at parenthood.  Not even one tiny bit of chance.  Or worst yet, we are given a chance the baby is taken away from us.  

We have a great home here.  The baby will have his or her own room with painted walls to match the gender.  There will be a new crib and everything else will be brand new.  The best products for 2012, and everything checked for safety.  The SUV we bought last year is awesome.  The yard is a decent size and fenced in.  The baby will have a college fund before even being born.  We are financially stable enough that I can stay home and take care of the child for the first five years of their life.  Fuck I think I almost described a yuppie.  But whatever, none of that seems to be good enough.

The feelings that go with infertility is so complex.  I honestly don't believe one could even understand the emotions unless they have been in the shoes.  There is no "fairness" or waiting your turn.  Sometimes it so hard to justify what is happening.  The only thing we can hold onto is the quote: "everything happens for a reason".  But after a couple years honestly, what is the fucking reason?

The Future

Many days I just want give up on fertility treatment.  Even if money was unlimited, I don't want to do another IUI, I don't want to do IVF, I don't ever want to see Clomid or any of it's fucking friends again, and I hate OPKs.  No more!  I just want to be left alone.  I don't want a newborn, I don't want a child, I like my sleep and freedom.  I want to spend all my money on myself, I want to take off without needing a babysitter.  I want to keep my current body with my non-sagging breasts, and kinda flat stomach.  

And there is my husband with his one fucking million sperm he left me.  I am still angry at that.  It seems like his count keeps getting lower and lower over time.  I asked him to take the CountBoost or FertilAid but he told me those had the some vitamins and such as his regular multivitamin that he already takes.  I never looked into whether that was true or not, nor do I know if he even takes those multivitamins on a daily basis like he should.  What about the occasional alcoholic drink he has?  Or his stressful job?  The last two IUIs were great on my end, one and two eggs.  My cervix isn't a problem since they bypass it with the IUI.  My right fallopian tube isn't a problem since I know at least one egg went down my left tube.  I am left feeling like I should be pointing fingers and you can take a good guess who at.  

Some days I say it's OK I don't have children, or at least anytime soon.  I told Bean years ago if we never have kids I'm getting my boobs picked back up once they begin to sag.  I think the surgery cost less than IVF.  I might even be able to get it done for free if I can convince my health insurance my real boobs cause me emotional pain.  Because it's not like infertility cause anyone emotional issues, ever.  No one gives a fuck about that.  But new plastic boobs, well can't have me crying and being self-conscious about the pair I have now, can we?

I fucking hate life.  

Source

And I don't think there is a God anymore, not that I was 100% sure to begin with.  There I said it, and offended a few people.  I didn't grow up with too much religion in my life.  But somewhere I got in my mind that if I pray enough everything things would be alright and whatever I needed would be given to me.  I did pray, many times.  I'm also done blowing out birthday candles, wishing on stars and throwing pennies into a fountain for the same wish.  I'm sick of answering the same thing each year when Bean asks me what I want as a gifts for holidays.  It's been years since I've asked for a gift other than "baby".  And yes, I equated blowing out candles to prayer.  If there is a God I'm pretty sure he despise me or something, and my feelings seems to be heading that way too.  It's going on three years, God hasn't answered my prayers yet.  Unless you want to count the time I did get PG and it was taken away soon after.  I'd honestly rather of never been pregnant to begin with than be pregnant for a month and lose the baby.  I loved my baby boy but there is pain even today.  I still don't make it a whole week without crying about it.  For Christmas this year I want a really expensive piece of electronics, not even sure what.  And for the birthday, just let me eat the cake.  Fuck you candles.  If I'm stuck on this miserable earth I might as well have fun.  God, we are done.  

Next up on the list of spontaneous and random ideas I have:  skydiving.

Sometimes I look at the last ultrasound photo I have of my baby and think of how beautiful he was.  You can't see his face, or arms or much of anything.  But for some strange reason I find that blob to be beautiful.  

-Selbe

Being Happy For Pregnant Women

I went to work today and worked a 8.5 hour shift.  I thought about not going in at all.  My back hurt from working late the night before, I was tired, and still nauseous.  But I sucked it up.  

I mentioned my 19-year-old co-worker that accidentally got pregnant.  She is 20-ish weeks along now.  It just kind of upsets me that my baby was planned and took a lot of trying, only for it to die.  I see her and the healthy  baby bump everyday.  It's very hard to look at her some days.  Or hear other co-workers talking about the baby.  She calls out A LOT... for being pregnant.  I've never made it past 10 weeks, my input and experience doesn't count much.  But I think of all the times I went to work during my miscarriage, and then returning back the day after my D&C.  I sucked it up and showed up.  Pregnancy is not an excuse!  Nor is a miscarriage.  It was my own fault for getting pregnant, I wanted it.  Even during my miscarriage I was called in to cover her ass. Doesn't it seem odd that I'm the one in the middle of losing my baby, and I'm having to cover for someone who got pregnant on accident.  I don't blame the company, I chose to go in and get on with my life.  It seems ironic.  

During my long shift today I realized I wish was I was more happy for those that are pregnant around me.  Sometimes it's hard to show that I'm happy for someone that has gotten something I want so easy.  (Other infertile women I am much more tolerant of.)  I understand it's a happy time in their life, it'd be a happy time in my life too.  If I was them.  It's hard to be ecstatic for someone when all you feel is pain inside.  I wish I could see it from their eyes.  That's a new goal, although I think an unrealistic one.  I've been infertile for too long.  

I wish I could see the happiness and not pain.

I am happy for them deep down, even though most of the time I don't show it.  But I also very sad for myself.  I wish God (or narwhal god) would make them wait a month or two longer, and give myself or another infertile a chance.  But this isn't pick a number like at the local deli.  It's not first-come, first-served.  It's more like a gamble.  Sometimes we are hanging out at the deli for way too long waiting for our turkey.  Only to watch person after person cut in line and get served.  The only thing we can do is stand off to the side, because saying something is socially unacceptable.  Our biggest fear: we finally do get up there and there is no turkey, or ham or yummy cheddar cheese left.  There is nothing left for us.

I wish I was better at throwing on a face smile and saying "congrats".  

Please pray to narwhal god that my next cycle (April) shows happiness again.

-Selbe

Provera #4

Abuse, God & the Narwhals

I don't really like to talk about my past much.  It's the past and it can't be changed.  But sometimes I need to tell a story.  Maybe it will help someone else out who is reading this now or someday in the future.  Maybe it will help someone else out who wants to understand but has never been through it themselves.

I mentioned before about believing in God and seeing too many bad things happen in the past.  This is one of my few stories of abuse.

Right out of high school I started dating a man eight years older than myself.  I've always liked older men, even to this day, so no problems there.  He had a temper though.  So did my father so I thought that was normal.  I cried in front of him a few times, at first it was alright but he never really touched or held me.  After awhile when I cried he began grabbing me and holding me down to the floor.  Even if I was standing he'd push on my back to push me down.  I'd kick and scream for help.  If someone is upset about anything and you hit them and pin them down, they become hysterical!  You go from crying about something small to full fear.  He was also verbally abusive towards me.  That didn't end well ether.  

He brought me to a psychiatrist who prescribed several medications for my "outbusts."  The meds where for bipolar and schizophrenic patients, high end stuff.  I'm so embarrassed to say this doctor didn't see the real reason.  Sometime later I randomly took myself off all the drugs.  They were shocked I didn't have any withdrawals.  Probably because I didn't need to be on them to begin with?  The meds gave him and his family new excuses.  They'd tell me strange things like certain moments or conversations never happened.  Then blamed it on me being insane.  

I admit, I'm probably not the most sane person.  I don't think anyone is.  But I don't think I'm that bad.

I prayed every night before I went to bed to God to save me.  God never did.

I stayed with him because this was all I ever knew, I was 19.  I didn't have that great of a family.  I was afraid if I left then things would get worse.  I waited to kill myself.  After a year and half I learned if I didn't show any emotions, happy or sad, then I wouldn't get hit or held down.  I learned if I didn't talk much other than "yes" or "no" then he wouldn't verbally abuse me.  That and I began to talk to friends about what was going on.  Friends was something I wasn't really allowed to have.  No one wants to be in an relationship with a zombie.  Plus if I was strong enough to start talking then that means others would find out.

He dumped me and told me he was fucking his co-worker instead.  I was never so happy to be dumped and cheated on.  I congratulated her, take my shit hole of the boyfriend and enjoy him.  I was free!

I made new friends, dumped the shrink and moved on with my life.

However, the memory was programmed in me forever.  I had people touch my back, where he would push down and I'd get upset.  Ever if they were not hurting me, I had fear.  I didn't cry in front of future boyfriends, instead in the bathroom with them outside asking me what was wrong.  I feared showing emotion.  I got scared when a male raised his voice.  I knew what was next.  This went on years and years, little by little it got better. I'm much more aware now.  Even of those around me and the relationships they are in.  I can pick up on abuse much better and know who to avoid.  

My husband has a best friend he works with.  He's a little annoying, but when you get most men together they are.  Labour Day before last I went to his party.  I don't really tell this story much because I feel maybe I was the one that did something wrong to cause this.  Maybe I overreacted.  

Everything was good but this friend drank a lot.  Lets call him "Bob".  We were in his living room.  My husband was there too, also very drunk, I was the only one sober.  Bob kept saying over and over again how I needed to have sex on his bed.  I turned down the offer, because frankly that's disgusting and I had NO interest.  But he kept saying it over and over again.  I needed to fuck my husband on his bed. This was stupid I got up to leave and go back out to the deck where the rest of the party guests were.  I wanted no part of this.  Bob grabbed me.  I told him "no" but then forced me to sit back down on his couch.  Maybe this was a game to him.  I tried to leave again, this time he had more force on me.  Bob took my car keys and phone so I couldn't leave.  I told him "no" again.  The third time I screamed "NO" over and over again.

He pushed on my back and pinned me to the floor.  All the memories and fear from my ex came forward and I freaked.  Bob was hurting me and refused to let me go.  I bite him and didn't let go.  His screams were louder than my own.  A guest from the party heard and came running to pull him off of me.  I was so scared.  I grabbed my things and ran out of there.  I never forgave Bob.  To this day whenever I see his face I immediately fear.  And I fear for his wife and daughter too.  If he did this to me then he's hurting them too.  I drove home that day crying and shaking.

Tonight I learned Bob and his wife are expecting another child.  

Thank you God for blessing them.  Thank you God for giving me a dead baby.  I really appreciate it.  I'm sorry I'm not good enough.  I'm sorry I don't smoke or do drugs.  I'm sorry I have a house and don't live with my parents.  Sorry I'm married.  Sorry I'm not on welfare or food stamps (sorry SNAP card, don't want to offend anyone).  Sorry I have a job.  Sorry I have money saved to actually afford a child.  Sorry I don't drink during my two week wait.  Sorry I'm been taking prenatals for too long.  Sorry for everything else I must of fucked up on to deserve a baby without a heartbeat.  Again I appreciate the surgeries, they are a blast.  

I wish there was a God.  I wish I could pray to someone and expect all my hurts to go away and dreams to come true.  There is no such thing though.  Only one can help themselves.  Not God, or Narwhals or lucky unicorn poop and can help you.

I like hippies.  They just give out happiness and expect nothing back.  I'd totally be one of those if I was alive in the 60's or 70's.  Smoking pot all the time, wearing tie dye and living out of a Volkswagon.  Instead I'm a modern hippy who takes herbal drugs, buys organic food, uses reusable shopping bags, and drives a VW Beetle.  You can't really live out of that.  Plus I'm not sure how to keep my organic vegtables cold in there.  

I'm going to put my tie dye shirt on and pray to the Narwhals.  And maybe enroll in some self defense classes.

Dear Narwhals, please bring me my own healthy baby.  You already know the address of my uterus.

-Selbe

Narwhal image came from here.  And yes, Narwhals really do exist.

Anger

I returned back to work Thursday, Bean on Wednesday.  I'd rather be at work, although there are some things that do upset me.  If not working then I'm just sitting on the couch or laying in bed.  That really doesn't help ether.

People keep asking me how I'm doing.   Honestly how would you be doing in my position?  I'm pissed, I'm angry.  I'm angry at other fertiles, at God, at myself.

Fertilies

I'm upset at couples that can get pregnant so easy.  The ones that try for 2 or 3 months or have just gotten off birth control.  Or the ones that get PG on accident.  Or the ones that get PG on accident while ON birth control (how does that even fucking happen?)  

I've been to the hospital for so many times this year for those that have had healthy babies.  We tried so long, so much.  Finally we got our dream only to have it taken away so soon.  I just happened to be in the small percentage of women this happens to.  A case of bad luck yet again.  Why do I feel like I'm the only one?  I know this isn't that uncommon, this happens to many women.  But yet I feel like I'm the only one to leave the hospital without a baby.  

Before complaining how crappy your pregnancy symptoms are or how horrible your child is, think of all the infertile women.  They would trade places with you in a heartbeat.  

The other day saw someone post on Facebook that they are upset they are not PG yet and would even take a miscarriage right now.  You want to take my life over and see your baby die?  Go right for it.  I'll give you this crappy situation.  Enjoy!

I don't know what's worse.  Getting PG and then losing your baby, or not getting PG at all.  I'm going to go with losing the baby.

God

For the infertile community I usually see one belief in God or the other.  1.  Those that believe God has a way for them and if they pray enough they will get it.  2.  Those that have seen so many bad things happen that they no longer believe said God exists.  I grew up learning God brings good things to those that deserve it and pray.  But what about bad things?  Does God also bring bad things to those that deserve it?  Does something else bring bad things?  Do bad things just come out of nowhere unlike good things?  I've seen a lot of bad things now, abuse and infertility to name a few.  Why does God give those that are clearly unfit to be parent a child?  (story of Caylee Anthony)  Why does he give those that are unwed (a sin) a child?  Why does he let people that are going to suck off welfare have unlimited children?  Why does he deny that to couples that are married, have amazing families and homes?  The anwser is simple.  1.  There is no God.  or 2. God does not control who gets good and bad.  Life is not fair.  If there was a being up there deciding who gets good and bad then life would be fair.  Shithole parents would become infertile and the infertiles would be given the amazing gift of life. However, it doesn't work that way. 

Myself

I'm angry I got myself so happy about the pregnancy.  I'm angry I had so much hope in it.  Maybe I didn't take enough folic acid?  Maybe 800mcg wasn't good enough for me?  (I literally went shopping for MORE folic acid supplements today.  Bean asked how much I need and I told him "more than I have now.")  I'm upset I can't be naive and enjoy a pregnancy without worrying about every little thing that could go wrong.  The ectopic, the miscarriage, my cervix falling.  I'll find something else once I'm cleared safe of all those.  I'm upset I know too much.  

And I'm also angry at my 18 year old unmarried co-worker than opps got pregnant.  I'm sorry I'm not all happy and hugs.  I am a bitch, I am angry.  The baby that took me 1.5 years to make is dying.  If you are pregnant then don't bother talking to me (unless you've been though the same things I have).  I don't want to hear it.  I don't want to listen to the complaining.  I don't want to hear how horrible your life is.  Just let me be in my own bubble and looking out the window.  I'll come around someday, but it won't be today, or tomorrow, or even next week.  This goes for everyone who is pregnant.

My few days back at work have been alright.  I'm still kind of out of it.  I'm sure I spend a lot of time staring off into space.  Bean took me shopping last week and I randomly started walking away from him when he was looking at something on a shelve.  He found me half the store away looking at something.  He asked me what I was looking at and I told him "I don't know."  I really don't know.  I just wanted to walk.  I'm there but sometimes my mind isn't.

The hardest was today at work.  I had a few ladies buying tons of baby stuff for their grandchildren (guessing by their ages).  They were so excited and proud for their babies.  Makes me think of my own family.  Sometimes I feel like I never do anything right, my father is never proud of me.  And my mum is just too out of it in general.  I wonder what that's like to have someone proud of you.  But I will never know, least not with this baby.  Because I feel like I fucked up again.  

I keep getting dizzy.  Not sure if this is part of a miscarriage or my ears are messing with me.  I wrote a note with a short description of my medical problem and put it in the pocket.  I figure if I pass out or am in too much pain then someone will know what to do with me.

I got asked by a few people if I'm scared for my D&C on Thursday.  Odd enough both Bean and I are excited for it!  I was never really scared for my lap surgery last October ether, just more what they could find wrong with me since they were going in with the intent of finding something.  But the actually surgery, the IVs, being put out, waking up in pain later really doesn't concern me at all.  And this time they are not digging for something wrong.  Whenever I'm told I need another procedure, LEEP, HSG, lap surgery, the D&C now, at first I do feel sorry for myself.  Then I read a lot online, especially seeing many other women go though the same thing, and just tell myself they are routine procedures or something.  I don't feel bad anymore and then somehow assume EVERY women has them done.  Until I met someone one day that is in fear of something stupid like an abnormal pap smear or simple IV and think they are a little bitch.  Not sure if this helps the situation at all.  Haha.  Anyways we are excited for the D&C and chance to move on for baby #2.  

At the store tonight I saw this toy.  Bean told me it's a baby toy.  I told him I found it in the dog aisle, and it says "pet" on it.  It's for puppies.  Then talked him into buying it.  Toys like this are for pet owners who don't have children.  Especially those that are infertile and have replaced the dog as a child.  We buy toys like this, and the Kong Puppy Binkie, so we feel semi better about the lack of child we don't have.  Dear dog, please wait at least a week before ripping its wings off.

I went on a beauty supply shopping spree the other night.  It made me feel semi better.  Today I made an appointment to get my hair done next week.

-Selbe