Shock

I know that many Americans are sick of politics as usual.  I know that many Americans are sick of politicians.  I know that many Americans are sick of the establishment.  I actually find myself mostly in agreement with these statements.  I know that many Americans longed for a different type of candidate.  One that wasn't a traditional politician.  One that bucked convention.  I get it, I really do.

But unfortunately the person who answered the call to be a different type of candidate was a raging dumpster fire of toxic sludge.  A man who I wouldn't even classify as a decent human being, let alone as having the disposition to be President of the United States of America.  Yet many Americans embraced him.  And now he's going to be our president.  

America spoke.  Loudly and convincingly.  We made this bed and now we have to lie in it too. 

I have never felt this much fear and despair for my country.  I hope beyond all hopes that this will bring us together, yet I fear it will divide us even more.  I am terrified of what this means for my country.  

Today I am thankful that I can't have children.  Today I am thankful that I don't have to find the words to explain how this happened to my children.  My heart hurts for those who do.

I am not a proud American today.  We can do better, America.  

October

Healing after infertility is a far from linear process.  There are ups and downs.  There are stretches of mostly down and there are stretches of mostly up.  After a long stretch of mostly up, October was mostly down.

For the first time in a long time, it felt like tears were just below the surface, and I cried more than I have in a long time.  I had to draw on my emotional reserves just to be a normally functioning adult.

We endured family pictures.  On many levels they weren't as hard as expected, but they were still hard and led to a lot of angst and drama beforehand.

All of the presidential election bullshit.

A random trip to a big box store that left me crying in the paint aisle.  I haven't cried like this in a public place for a long time.

Halloween.  Even though I had to work during trick-or-treating festivities in my neighborhood, I still wasn't complete immune to all of the hard, thanks to social media.

An insanely busy work schedule that required making some hard decisions that don't come naturally to me.

October is also Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month.  I think it is so awesome that there is an entire month devoted to recognizing these losses and and raising awareness.  But this month also brings up some complicated feelings for me.  For reasons I can't fully explain and will probably butcher an explanation of, this month always leaves me feeling like an impostor.  Because I was never pregnant, because we chose not to do IVF, we never got a physical embodiment of what could have been.  We have nothing to mourn or recognize.  We only lost an idea, and some days that seems like nothing.  But it feels like something to me, a huge something.  Yet I feel like I don't have the right to mourn and remember alongside those who lost an actual something.  It's complicated.  I honestly think my inner struggle about this was the root of my rough month.  

I also think I'm more anxious about my laparoscopy than I thought I was.  Which wasn't made any easier by my mom reminding me that her offer to pay for IVF still stands, and needing to shut her down.  I had my pre-op appointment yesterday, got my required blood work, and paid my surgery prepayment fee.  Everything is set to go for November 18th (which is actually a few days earlier then it was previously scheduled thanks to someone double booking the operating room).

It wasn't all bad (actually some parts of the month were really good), it's just that the hard parts were really hard.  Two years ago having an entire month where I felt down wasn't uncommon.  Having a breakdown in the middle of a store wasn't that uncommon.  It's just been so long since I've had a down phase that lasted more than a day or two that it caught me completely off guard.

But that's the thing.  Grief isn't linear and sometimes feelings don't make sense.  I'm trying really hard to be nice to myself and survive this phase.  The good news is that I am bouncing back faster then I would have a couple of years ago, and that's a good thing.

A small price to pay for a little bit of sanity

Hubs and I haven't paid for cable TV since approximately 2009.  We don't miss it most of the time.

Last week we caved and got a basic cable subscription.  Why?  This f****** election.  That's why.

After 16 months of campaigning we only had two more weeks to wait before it's over.  We couldn't. We couldn't take the round-the-clock network coverage* or the nonstop commercials.  We couldn't take the attacks, the half-truths, or the outright lies.  Simply put, even though we've had our minds made up for months, all of the coverage was stressing us out.

It's been so long since we've had cable that we don't even know what's on non-network TV any more. We're looking forward to finding out (recommendations are welcome!).  Mostly we're looking forward to avoiding election coverage (and post election coverage).

The cost of the monthly subscription is a small price to pay for eliminating a big stressor from our lives and restoring a small bit of sanity in our house.

*I'm perfectly OK with biased coverage from mainstream media that portrays the Republican candidate in the most negative light possible.  The prospect of his presidency is so frightening that I can't even begin to wrap my brain around it and anything that can be done to discourage people from actually voting for him should be encouraged!

A couple of interesting hashtags

I am ashamed to be an American right now.  I am ashamed that a man like the Republican nominee is a legitimate candidate for president of my country.  I am ashamed that a man who has publicly made racist, xenophobic, and misogynistic statements could be our next leader.  I am ashamed that a man who publicly shames those with disabilities and women could be our next leader.  And I'm baffled at how he has managed to gain so much support.  Frankly, I don't think this man should be out on bail, let alone running for the highest office of this land.

Just when I didn't think it was possible for my opinion of the Republican nominee for president couldn't get any lower, push alerts started coming through on my phone just as we were leaving for family pictures.  This story broke (just in case you haven't seen or heard about it, if you choose to play the video, be aware that it's not safe for work or children).  I was physically ill  when I heard his words.  And then that anger turned to rage.  Apparently I was not alone.

If you've been anywhere social media or the news recently, you've probably seen or heard about two hashtags, #notokay and #WhyWomenDontReport.  Women started coming out, collectively and loudly, and talking about their first assault, and then later in the week explaining why they didn't report it.  These aren't the first hashtags of this nature, just the most recent.

Loribeth reviewed a book earlier this summer called Sex Object and was brave enough to share some of her own personal experiences with men overstepping their bounds as part of her review.  Her post came back to the front of my mind a few days ago when a notification for a new comment popped up in my inbox. 

So I'm going to share too.  If you find things like this bothersome or triggering, please take care of yourself and don't read any further.

This wasn't the first time something happened, but it was the time where I realized that women really aren't equal.  I was 11.  It was on the school bus.  I was tall and lanky.  I wasn't to the part of puberty where I had hips or breasts yet.  The hairstyle at the time was for women to wear short hair (it was the early 90s, after all).  I was the second to last stop so by the time I got on, the bus was full, save for one seat, directly by a high school boy.   This kid made the 10 minute ride to school seem like forever, and the only seat left by the time I got on was right beside him and where I was the only girl for at least five rows.  There was a lot of verbal assaults in the first weeks of school, mainly telling me that I didn't look like a girl, but he didn't touch me.  Until one day when he did.  I got on the bus just like any other day, except when I got back to the seat, he grabbed me by the backpack and pulled me in, said "I'm gonna pull your pants down and see if you are really a girl."  I struggled.  I got my arm free.  And I punched him in the nose.  I was suspended from the bus for 10 days.  I tried to tell the school administration what happened.  I cried.  I begged them to make him stop taunting me.  In their eyes I was in the wrong.  I had to apologize to the kid who tried to rip my clothes off of me before I was allowed back on the bus.

From this experience I learned that my voice didn't matter, at least not when it came to boys treating me poorly.  I learned that the authorities didn't care about me or my well being.  I learned that I wouldn't be believed.  I learned that I don't matter.  I learned to be afraid.  I learned to feel bad about my body.  I learned to stay silent.  Later I stayed silent too because I was scared, because I didn't want to go through not being listened to again, because I didn't think anyone would believe me.  I couldn't bear the shame again. 

It took me years to realize that it wasn't my fault.  That I didn't do anything to deserve any of it.  That he was the one in the wrong.

The thing is that I know I'm not alone.  I know that most women have experienced some form of unwanted physical attention or advance from a boy or man. 

The ONLY good thing that has come out of this candidate's campaign for president is that people are talking about the prevalence of sexual assault.  Though I fear that if he is elected it will only get worse, because if the man in charge does it, that makes it ok for everyone. 

He can't be elected.  Please tell me that he won't be.

Planning ahead

This is Part 2 (of sorts) to the family picture saga of last weekend, but I felt like this deserved it's own post.

When I scheduled my laparoscopy, I was thinking ahead.  I scheduled it for the Monday before Thanksgiving, a date chosen specifically because it's pretty easy for me to take the rest of the week off from work.  The doctor said to plan for a week of recovery time.  Perfect.

Despite sharing openly in the blogosphere that I'm having this done, in my private life, I wanted to keep this pretty low on the down low.  I'm not ashamed or anything like that, I just prefer to not disclose things like this until after the fact, if at all.  I've found that, similar to infertility, everybody has some horror story (alternatively, a story of hope).  I've only told two friends and my boss, and I only told my boss that I was having a minor outpatient surgical procedure done and that it shouldn't impact my return to work, but that I wanted to let him know in case there were any complications.

I wasn't planning to tell anyone in my family, especially my mother, because she doesn't have a proven track record of honoring requests for confidentiality.

But sometimes the best laid plans have a kink in them.  In this case, the particular kink is Thanksgiving, the epitome of family togetherness.  Oops.  Forgot about that minor detail.  Well, I didn't forget the holiday, I just didn't think my plan all the way through, and how I would explain why we aren't going to be there. 

While we were at my parent's house my mom asked about our Thanksgiving plans.  Shit.  Shit, shit, shit.  Since it's unlikely that I'll feel up to a road trip 2 days after a laparoscopy, I had to tell her.  It feels wrong to tell a white lie to get out of a holiday with family.  So I told her.  I asked her to respect my privacy by not sharing this with anyone but my dad. 

Her immediate response was one of concern.  She asked me why I was having it and who was doing it.  I shared as much as I felt comfortable sharing and stuck to the facts.

Then she asked if I'd like for her to come and be with me as I recover.  I politely declined her generous offer offer as I thought in my head that I'd rather light myself on fire.  Before you think I'm a horrible person, I'm the sort of person that wants to be left in a corner to die when I'm not feeling well.  I don't want anybody to take care of me.  I even told hubs that I only wanted him to take Monday off, which he agreed to, but only on the condition that if needed he would take Tuesday and/or Wednesday off.

But then my mom said something so far out in left field that it completely blindsided me.

She asked if having this done meant that we were going to try to have a baby again.

What the actual fuck?

After I picked my chin up off of the floor I managed to get out that anything I did to my reproductive parts from this point forward was solely about quality of life.

It didn't hurt as much as much as it pissed me off.  Without another word I turned and walked away from her, knowing full well that if I didn't, I'd end up saying something that did permanent damage to our relationship.

I went on a long walk and had an ugly cry.  Not a single word about it was uttered when I came back to their house.

A few days later, the blind rage has passed, but the hurt and frustration remains.

I've never asked my mom (or anyone else for that matter) to agree with every decision we've made during our infertility journey, but I guess I'm still naive enough expect that people will respect us enough to not second guess our decisions or try to change our minds. 

I just want understanding.  And empathy.  And respect.  And if a person can't manage those, silence is the best option.  Words hurt.

Oh, and now my grandma's church has me on the prayer chain.  Because apparently "please don't tell anyone I'm having this done" wasn't clear enough.

Family pictures

This past weekend my entire family gathered for pictures.  My parents, all of my sisters, their husbands, and all of my nieces and nephews, and of course hubs, me, and our dog.  To say that I wasn't looking forward to pictures was a bit of an understatement.

There was some drama in the days leading up to pictures.  One sister doesn't allow pictures of her child on social media and is a royal pain in the ass about it (I'll refrain from stepping on my soap box about this topic).  This wouldn't be problematic, except the photographer utilizes it for advertising purposes and posts "sneak peaks" of all of her sessions to Facebook.  To make a long story short, apparently I hurt my sister's feelings when I told her that she needed to verify with the photographer before the date of pictures that pictures of her kid would not be posted online, and that if this was non-negotiable for the photographer that my sister needed to make arrangements for a different photographer.  If she doesn't want pictures of her kid online, fine, but that doesn't give her the right to make a last minute decision for a group based on her personal policy, especially since every other person in the group had this weekend blocked off for two months and she didn't bother to mention this potential issue until two weeks before.  Thankfully everything was verified and the photographer was understanding about my sister's (stupid) policy.

There was also outfit drama in the days leading up to the pictures.  In August we all agreed to a fall color palette for attire and that that each family/couple (because hubs and I aren't considered a family) would let the rest of the group know what color we chose as we decided on our outfits to hopefully avoid duplicates.  I sorted out attire for hubs and me a month in advance (which involved buying new shirts for both of us) and ordered a custom bow tie for the dog.  Per the arrangement, I let everyone know the color scheme that we chose.  Four days before pictures I was informed that we needed to pick a different color because one of my sisters was short on money needed to use that color so she wouldn't have to go buy new outfits for the kids.  I not so politely informed the group that lack of planning on her part was not an emergency on mine, that we weren't changing our outfits, and that I didn't care if they wore the same color as us.  My sister managed to figure it out.

The actual day of the pictures was stressful.  My nieces woke up in rare form, something that I knew would not bode well for pictures, and then my sister "forgot" to put them down for naps. Also, apparently one of my sisters arranged for my cousin to come out to do hair and makeup.  Two of the topics of conversation were unfair maternity leave policies and being thankful for tubals.  Not surprisingly, I didn't have anything to contribute, so I left.

Pictures were scheduled for 5pm.  Now, I'm obviously not a parent, but as soon as I heard the time, I knew it was a bad idea.  Scheduling a two hour time block starting at 5pm (right during dinner time) when you have five kids that are five and younger, is asking for trouble.  And it was.

Also, one might assume that since we planned to take the pictures on my parent's farm where my parents and two of my sisters and their families live, that everyone would be on time.  This assumption was wrong.  5pm came and hubs and I were the only people ready.  But at least we got our family shots done first.

The biggest surprise of the day is that my mom had my grandparents (her parents) come out for pictures.  I understand this on some level because they are getting older, their health is failing them, and the reality is that there probably won't be too many more opportunities for pictures with them, but after infertility, I don't like surprises.  I have what I would consider to be a cordial relationship with my grandparents, but I don't go out of my way to spend time with them, particularly not during election season.  All my grandma could manage to talk about was how evil Hillary Clinton is, how awesome that Donald Trump is, and how excited that her and my grandpa are to be first time great-great grandparents.  Apparently my cousin's 16 year old daughter had a baby, which, in my mind, isn't something to be excited about.

From the sneak peak that I saw online, it looks like the photographer managed to get some decent shots.  I'm not in love with the shot of me, hubs, and the dog but it's definitely good enough for our holiday card, and she got a really good shot of just the dog.  There's also a pretty good shot of my parents, my sisters, and me.  The group shots of the whole family weren't that great, but by the time we got to that point of the session most of the kids were hungry, tired, and throwing fits. 

Probably the most hurtful part of picture day was when I overheard a conversation between my mom and asshole brother-in-law.  BIL asked my mom if she ever imagined that she'd have as many grandkids as she does.  She replied with "actually, I thought I'd have more by now."  I know she didn't mean for it to be hurtful, and she was probably just being honest about her feelings, but it stung and made me feel incredibly inadequate.

I felt different for the whole day.  An outsider in my own family.  And it was really hard for both hubs and me.  But I think I handled it better than I would have a year or two ago, so that alone is a victory of sorts.  Thankfully, family pictures aren't a regular occurrence so I'll have a reprieve for a couple of years.

Stupid things that people say

Like me, I think that most of the readers of this blog are accustomed to people saying stupid things when they find out that we don't have kids.  These things are often said innocently, but they often hurt.  But I also think that women are on the receiving end of those comments more frequently and that a lot of men don't/can't fully understand their impact unless they have an experience of their own.

Hubs had one of these experiences about a week ago.  He came home from work and asked if anyone had ever said something stupid to me.  I said "of course" but then asked for a bit of context.  He said "you know, about not having kids."  I said "oh yeah, fairly frequently."

Apparently a coworker asked him if he had kids.  When he responded that he didn't the coworker, also a guy, told him that he was lucky and went on to say that he'd lost a child to cancer, then proceeded to proclaim that it's the hardest thing that a couple could ever go through.

I asked him how he responded to the guy.  He indicated that he didn't really say anything beyond that he was sorry.  He said he felt like if he said anything else that he'd come across as an asshole.

Hubs was really taken aback by the whole conversation.  I wasn't taken aback since I'm quite a bit more experienced with this particular assumption, but I did feel bad for him, because this was genuinely the first time he had been made to feel like crap because he doesn't have kids.

He said that he felt bad for the guy because he and his wife had to go through something that nobody should ever have to go through, but he also feels like we went through something that nobody should ever have to go through too, and that we certainly weren't lucky.  I agreed.

I hate that he had to experience this first hand.  But I'm also glad.  Because I think that now he gets it on a deeper level and that empathy will be the result.