October 26, 2009

Yup, that’s me.  I’m spiraling into sadness once again.   This is just another month where I’m plotting and planning when Hubby and I are supposed to do ‘it.”  Yet again, I think “I shouldn’t have to be worrying about this….I should have two little boys to fuss over for Halloween.”

But I don’t.

The unconfirmed loss of last month has left me reeling…again….but why?  Why shouldn’t I be used to these losses?  Realistically, this is going to be our life – our reality –  until we conceive and carrying again past 23 weeks, why am I not used to that fact yet?  These feelings of grief and loss are exacerbated by the fact that I found out we can’t refinance our home to pay for adoption costs.  Apparently home prices have dropped in the area and we don’t have enough equity to take out a loan to cover the costs of adoption.  What a surprise that something didn’t work out for us….I’m shocked (that’s sarcasm in case you are new to my blog – nothing goes the way it’s supposed to for me – the universe hates me). 

Oh and there may be a third thing contributing to my downward spiral….On Friday, I tried to have a conversation with my mother about adoption and for some fucked up reason, she asked me if I was pregnant.  Sidebar: she makes it sound like an accusation when she asks….”Are you preg-a-nant?”  She sounds out the syllables just like that.  It makes me feel like she’s disapproving of me….this is the woman who said, “I don’t know how I feel about that…” when she bullied me into telling her I was pregnant with the boys.  Anywho, why the fuck would I be talking to her about adoption if I was pregnant and then I remembered, I had been pregnant up until Monday.  Just a little bit anyway so prehaps it was a valid question.  Still, she switched the subject after I said no and wanted to discuss her dog.  I try to have a relationship with her but really, I’m just being polite now…I really feel like she doesn’t want to hear anything of substance.  It’s strange, I used to tell her everything…

I want so badly to be pregnant again.  I have a myriad of friends who are pregnant – some getting ready to deliver any day now.  I feel so angry and hurt and left out and why?  This shouldn’t be new to me…this is where I’ve been since April 8th, 2008.  I should be used to standing in the shadows, used to the fact that I envy people who are pregnant, I should be used to disappointment.

I feel like such a disappointment.

Eggs In One Basket…

May 21, 2009

Hubby admitted to the therapist last night that he already had he felt positive that this would be the month that we stay pregnant.  I have been really worried that he would pin all his hopes on the drugs increasing the number of potentially viable eggs.  I suspected that this would be the case when the doctor first prescribed them for us and I didn’t really know how to address it with him.  The drugs could definitely help us with more eggs but those eggs might not have the right genetic material to make them viable.  The therapist thinks it’s good that he is so positive (remember she’s big on positive thinking).  I’m hopeful.  Cautiously optimistic but really, I think I will be cautiously optimistic until I am actually holding our living child(ren).  I just don’t know how he will feel if this takes longer than a month to work…

In related news, the former employee who said “why do you get two and I have none?” in response to finding out I was pregnant, had her baby.  In her defense, she struggle with infertility for 3 years so I have always been happy for her and her husband (who was the anesthesiologist when I delivered the boys so I can’t stand to see him) that they have finally gotten their baby.  I did want to say, “so now you have one and I have two dead babies” to her but I’m trying to make nice-nice with the universe.*

I could really use something positive to happen to me right now.  I came back from vacation relaxed and then the reality of my current situation (i.e. continuous miscarriages) is weighing on me again.  Looming actually.  With each pregnancy announcement from people around me, I feel more and more sad and hopeless.  Hubby is stressed about work and school and the fact that my mother guilted me into watching her new dog (the other dog, Diego, died tradgically when I was in San Diego) while she is on vacation and is very grumpy and resentful.  Makes for ideal baby-making conditions…not.

Last little rant.  I swear to whatever that if one more pregnant woman bitches about the “trials” of being pregnant, I’m going to lose it.  I was pregnant, I know it’s not a walk in the park but seriously, it’s not that bad.  In fact, I would give ANYTHING to trade places with them and be hot, uncomfortable and ackward.  They can have my reality for a little while and then understand about the “trials” of having two dead babies and multiple miscarriages.

I’m really not in a bad mood, I swear it….

*I’m not really sure what I did to the universe but she is obviously pissed at me.

So my mom responded to my letter.  She actually responded on Saturday but I didn’t respond because I was helping out a friend who is going through a very rough time right now.  I also didn’t want to respond to my mother before Hubby and I went to therapy.  Dr. J read the response from my mother and agreed with me.  While she’s not angry or mad or anything like that, I would call it a “non-response.”  What do I mean by that?  She doesn’t take any responsibility for the things she said.  She doesn’t apologize.  It’s a lot of “I’m sorry if you think I hurt you.”  That’s not a real apology, that’s not really acknowledging that my feelings are hurt.  That’s sort of like someone shooting you in the stomach and then saying, “I’m sorry if you think I shot you…”  All the while, they are holding a smoking gun. 

She says a lot of things like, “I’m used to having to get over things…”  Why she says that, I don’t know because I didn’t tell her to get over it.  I told her that I knew she was upset and disappointed and I was sorry for that.  I apologized to her for something that, looking back, I shouldn’t have apologized for.  I had no idea that I was supposed to come for a visit.  We never discussed it.  How can I come if I don’t know I was supposed to and then how can she be angry with me for not coming?  She admitted that her main complaint was that she feels everyone else knows what is going on my life but not her.  Also, her reasoning for not recognizing the week the boys died was because she didn’t want to remind me.  Really.  Damn, she’s totally right.  I completely forget the worst day of my life.  How astute of her to want to protect me from that.* 

She launched into a lot of her normal possessive language as well.  Lots of “you are MY child and I have the right to worry about you.”  Fine.  Worry about me all you want but don’t make me feel bad or hurt my feelings.   Despite being my mother, you don’t have the right to do that.

So I haven’t yet responded.  I don’t know what to say.  As a result, she sent me another email that she’s disappointed that she hasn’t heard from me since the email.  I emailed her back and said, “I’m thinking of how I want to respond.”  Her response was, “fine.  I won’t bother you again.”

And hello Mrs. Passive Aggressive, welcome back.  I missed you for the whole 10 seconds you were gone from my life.  Can I show you to your table so that you may begin making me feel bad again?  Great.  Thanks.**

So the long and short of it is, I don’t think the letter did anything in terms of her changing her behavior.  It did, however, make me decide that I’m not taking this behavior from her anymore.

*I get very sarcastic when I am angry.

** Okay, really, really sarcastic.


April 22, 2009

So I sent the letter on Monday.   I have not heard from my mother yet.  Total silence.  I thought she would call last night and while I don’t think I would have answered, I was really surprised that she didn’t call…sigh….I don’t know what to do…I guess there isn’t anything to do but wait…she’s pissed at me, I know it…Do I regret sending the letter?  Nope.

We have an appointment to see the RE in about a week to discuss “super-ovulation.”  A woman on the Balanced Translocation Yahoo Group who has the same translocation that I do emailed me that her RE wouldn’t do the super-ovulation because, like me, she got pregnant easily.  People with my type of translocation are the most common and it’s the least severe in terms of how it effects staying pregnant.*  Yeah me.  Anywho, her RE said that she would not do the super-ovulation because if she kept trying, eventually one would stick.  This is why IVF with Pre-genetic diagnosis is not recommended for me either.  The cost does not justify the benefit.  And the great news is, she now has two children, just like I got pregnant with the boys.  Great.  Groovy.  So I’m supposed to  just keep trying.  This is not a third child that I am trying for here people – I don’t have any other living children to look at and think, “I’m okay with one.”  I would have stopped at the boys if they had lived.  I’m not being greedy.  I want the universe to understand that.  I’m not being greedy…just…OH COME ON!!! (fist is raised in the air and I am looking up…)

So I keep trying and it’s loss after loss.  I’m pregnant for 2 weeks then I’m not.  I don’t even get excited over a positive HPT anymore.  If it’s not a super-dark positive line, chances are, it’s not sticking.  I don’t even call the doctor – I don’t plan to until I hit the 9 week mark (I’ve gotten to 8 weeks twice now, I figure I make it to 9, then I will get excited..or not).  I just monitor my symptoms in case of an ectopic pregnancy and usually, one day I wake up and I don’t feel pregnant anymore.  And this is my life, over and over again.  Watching people around me get pregnant, have babies and move forward.  I’m stuck here in a cycle of loss that feels never ending.

My RE will  probably say no to the super-ovulation but I have to ask.  For my peace of mind, I have to ask.

*There is a whole world of this out there involving Robertsonian Translocations and break points and trisomy 13, 18, Down’s Syndrome.  If you are interested, email me but it’s a lesson in Genetics and my recall from college has been really tested….

I Lit the Fuse…

April 21, 2009

Now let’s all watch the bomb go off….

My mother sent me an email over the weekend that simply said, “I miss you.”  That was it.  I didn’t respond because I was still very angry about the Easter confrontation and the manner in which she handled it.  I knew that I needed to say something to her about the way that she and I have been relating to each other lately.  I admit that I am not totally innocent in this situation.  I have not been honest with her about my feelings and I have, at times, given in and rewarded her negative behavior.  I knew that I needed to talk to her before therapy last night.  We are still in the midst of the Mexican stand-off in terms of phone calls so I responded to her email.  Here is what I said:

My therapist said I should write you a letter so here goes.
See, I miss you because you are my mother and I love you and I need your understanding and support right now.  Instead, I get passive/aggressive behavior like the conversation we had before Easter.  You didn’t ask me to come for Easter.  You assumed I was coming and then got angry with me when I told you we weren’t coming.  I understand that you were disappointed and I’m sorry for that.  You didn’t ask me why we weren’t coming.  I had to lie to you because you didn’t have enough respect for me not to call me at work and get upset with me.  I couldn’t talk about the reason why we weren’t coming in the office.
That week before Easter was a really bad week for me but you didn’t remember that was the when I delivered the boys.  The worst day of my life and you didn’t remember.  And that’s fine.  I understand that it may not have had the same effect for you as it did for me.  But that and the fact that I had a miscarriage over that weekend, that was the reason why I didn’t want to come for Easter.
In addition, your repeated comments that you are “ordering a girl next time” have often made me feel like because they were boys, my twins didn’t matter to you.  That hurts me.  I understand that you were disappointed they were not girls but I am not.
I feel like I can’t trust you because when I call to talk to you when I’m having a bad day, you call Tim.  The one time I reached out to you because I was in so much pain, I couldn’t breath, you repeatedly asked me what was wrong.  You know what’s wrong.  Then you tell me not to cry.  Why in the world would I not cry?  And then you called Tim.  If I wanted to talk to Tim, I would.  I have no problem talking to Tim.  I wanted to talk to you.
My boys died a year ago and I’m having a hard time.  I’ve had 5 miscarriages in the past year and I’m tired, physically weak, and emotionally exhausted.  For a little while, there are going to be times when you want me to visit and I can’t.  It’s not because I don’t love you or I don’t want to see you or Tim is keeping me from you.  It’s because I don’t feel good – emotionally or physically.
I don’t want to lie to you anymore and I’m not censoring my conversations with you.  If you say something that hurts me, I’m going to tell you that you’ve hurt me and I will just deal with the silent treatment that will likely follow. 
I love you and I wish we could have the relationship that we used to have but right now, I would just settle for being able to be honest with you and not have you get angry with me or behave as if I have done something intentional to hurt you.  And if I do hurt you, I assure you that it’s not intentional.
Yup, I sent it yesterday about 3:45pm.  That large “BOOM” that you all heard here in the South, that was me, blowing 9 years of passive/aggressive crap wide open.
God, I feel nauseous.


April 14, 2009

I’m not good with confrontation.  My mother told me for a number of years that I was a drama queen.  I think, because of that, I tend to go the exact opposite way.  I’m no shrinking wallflower but I don’t confront people.  I shy away from conflict.  A friend recently made an insensitive comment and while it hurt me, I know she didn’t mean it so why call her on it.  Another friend has no problem telling her mother, “hey!  That hurts my feelings!” I can’t imagine doing that.  If I said to my mother, “you know, it hurts me when you tell me that you are ‘ordering a girl next time’ when you know that the loss of my boys is still painful,” she would tell me that I am being overly sensitive and dramatic and that it was a joke.*  Ha.  Funny.

Hubby and I spent most of our hour at the therapist talking about my mother.  The therapist suggested that I confront my mother on the hurtful things that she has said and done over the past year.  My friend F suggested a letter.  My cousin suggested waiting a couple of days and then calling her.  I don’t know if that will accomplish anything but as Cousin Jenn-Jenn said, what have I got to lose.

The reason for this latest discussion was Easter.  My mother expected me to come to her house for Easter (I don’t say “home,”  I have never lived at her house in the ‘Boro – “home” is with Hubby in Holly Springs or San Diego).  I didn’t know this.  I don’t celebrate Easter beyond making a ham and some sweet potatoes.  I’m not religious, don’t go to church and have nobody to hide eggs for so I’m not big on the holiday.  It’s just another day in the garden as far as I am concerned.  I would have liked to see my family but I had a reason for not going – I had another miscarriage at the beginning of the week and Tuesday was the anniversary of the day I delivered the boys, I was in no place to spend time with anyone.  I couldn’t take any time off from work to rest so by the time Friday rolled around, I was tired, weak and exhausted.  I know that I need to go to my mother’s house to help clean out her spare room but I just didn’t have the energy.

I’m supposed to be practicing “self-care” as well.  The therapist (let’s call her Dr. J) told me that it was perfectly acceptable to be a little selfish right now.  Everyday, I am supposed to do one thing for myself.  Walking at lunch with K, a yoga DVD, walking the dogs, gardening, reading a book, getting a massage – something, anything that reduces stress in my life.

Dr. J thinks that I can’t practice good “self-care” with this dark cloud of a maternal relationship hanging over me.  She says that I am grieving the loss of the boys AND this changed relationship with my mother and what I really need to be doing is working though my grief with the support of my mother.  Okay, I’ll buy that.  But how? How do I get THERE?  I want to be there.  I do.  But I fear that confronting her will only result in the “you-are-really-quite-sensitive-aren’t-you?” conversation.  And the letter?  The actual ACT of the letter will make her mad – as if I embarrassed her by writing the letter.

So where are we right now?  It’s called a “Mexican Standoff” in our house.  The first one who picks up the phone to call the other loses. 

I lose a lot.  On oh-so-many-levels, I lose a lot.


*Nope, I’m not kidding, that really did happen.  See these this post for other such insightful comments:


I came to the conclusion last night that the strangeness between me and my mother is not me.  It’s her, it’s all her.  My mom came to spend the night at my house last night because she was flying out to San Diego this morning.  I told her we would have dinner and see “Nights in Rodanthe.”  She called at 3:30 to say that she was on her way.  It takes about 3 hours to here from her house so that would be perfect.  The movie started at 7:45pm, we had time to eat and see the movie, no problem.  I was looking forward to seeing her.  I had a nice little inter-dialogue with myself that I was happy to see her, that I would be nice and not quick to anger or be offended.  I would be compassionate.

She walked in the front door at 6:30pm and flopped down on the couch and “said, well, you don’t have to worry about me coming by, I’ll never do that again.”  No hug, nothing.  “Okay,” I said, “what’s wrong?”  She looked at me and said, “that was the worst drive ever.  This is so out of the way, all the way out here.”

Hubby and I live in the suburbs of Raleigh.  It’s not the close suburbs but it’s what we could afford when we were buying a house.  It was the difference between a 2 bedroom with no land and a 3 bedroom with a fenced yard on about a quarter of an acre.  We worked hard to buy this house.  We wanted a house for a long time and with no help from either set of parents, we bought this house on our own.  It’s a nice house.  I love my house.

While repeating in my head, “happy thoughts, smiling thoughts,” I said, “well, I am glad you made it.  Would you like a glass of water or the bathroom?”  She still had not commented on the house or the Halloween decorations in the front.  I have some serious Halloween decorations out front.

After the restroom, she said, “well, are you going to give me a tour or what?’ 

Okay……..so I did.  I showed her to the guest room/Hubby’s office.  We have a really nice futon (not a contradiction, I assure you) in the office.  I had already made it up for her.  First thing she says?  “It’s really hot in here.  I thought you had a 3 bedroom house.”

Lovely.  Great.  I said, “I do have a 3 bedroom house, do you want me to get your stuff out of the car?” 

What I wanted to say was, “Yes, I have a 3 bedroom house but one of the rooms that is chalked to the walls with baby furniture, car seat, clothes (remember people, I had two of everything…) and that room, well, that’s supposed to be the nursury for my twin boys but really, I had totally forgotten about that room so thanks for reminding me because I don’t walk passed it everyday, touch the door and wish like hell it was filled with two screaming boys.  You are right, I totally forgot about that room.”

We went to dinner, skipped the movie, came home, she said two words to Hubby and went to bed.  No hug, nothing.

So I went in there gave her a hug and said, “have a nice trip, I will see you when you get back” – Hubby was taking her to the airport as I wouldn’t have gotten to work on time if I took her – she never asks when we can take her to the airport, she just books her flight.  She gave me a hug and said “goodnight.”

I made a point to get up this morning and make sure I said “goodbye” and give her a hug.  I am just so relieved to know that it’s not me.  It’s really not me.  It’s her.  She’s unhappy.

And that’s not my fault.