Miscarriage is a terrible thing. It doesn't respect your hopes and dreams. It doesn't respect your right to grieve.
Even if you're very open about your miscarriage, which I have been, there is no space for your grief in our society. My friends and family have been enormously supportive, and they have and will continue to hold me up, but it's still never going to be enough.
You see, our fetus, who never stood a chance at becoming a baby scientifically speaking, had two possible names. A due date. A nursery theme. A mother and a father and a big brother. A whole life to live.
Just because I know intellectually that with no heartbeat, this fetus would never amount to more than a tiny cluster of tissue and a few weeks of mild morning sickness and food cravings, that doesn't change the fact that, for one month, I was pregnant. I dreamed about my baby, made plans for him or her. Prayed for him or her to grow big and strong and become a beloved child of God. I bought maternity clothes and fantasized about getting round. I thought about purchasing a new breast pump through insurance, and whether or not we should spend money doing at 12 week NT scan, since it wasn't covered on our insurance. I started to plan my maternity leave and who would be my long-term substitute.
Now, I'm bleeding. I know it's the end. There is no more hope for those dreams.
What do I have to show for it? 10 pounds and a heart full of grief.
How do I get to say goodbye? By disposing of my dreams, one way or another. Take your pick: The baby and all of that hope will likely either be flushed down a toilet or thrown in the trash, waded up in a sanitary napkin. I likely won't even know when to say goodbye.
That is miscarriage.
Showing posts with label grief. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grief. Show all posts
Monday, September 29, 2014
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
No heartbeat
We found out today that the fetus has no heart beat and is several weeks behind developmentally, so we're praying for a quick, safe, and natural miscarriage.
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
Our Little Engine that Could
Praise and thanksgiving! Our Little Engine that Could is making slow progress safe and sound in my uterus. I have an at risk pregnancy, but a pregnancy, nonetheless. I'm 6w3d pregnant from my FET, but the gestational sack and yolk sack measured proportionally at 5w2d. The amazing ultrasound technician said that there is a margin of error of about a week, and that she has seen slow developers go on to be healthy pregnancies before. She didn't make promises, but she said to be hopeful for two weeks until we return.
Dr. B basically said everything that the sonographer said, but with less tact. He was fairly polite for himself, but he just drops bombs in a way that Wisesister thinks is unnecessary, and I am inclined to agree with her. For example, he could have avoided scaring me half to death that I was having an ectopic pregnancy and was facing internal bleeding and certain loss. All he had to do was say, "Your blood work is irregular. Let's bring you in for a sono to learn more!" He did suggest that in his experience about 50% of cases like mine result in healthy pregnancies, which is a big improvement over the 15% we had been hearing for the last week.
We're proceeding as if we have a healthy baby. In two weeks, we'll have a make or break sono where we will learn if there is a fetus developing slowly in the the yolk sack. If there is a fetus and a heart beat, we won't necessarily be out of the woods, but it will be 8w3d, and that's a pretty great place to be. If not, then we'll know that we've lost the pregnancy and we'll be able to grieve and start to decide where to go from there.
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
Vermillion, Part 2
I was listening to my FET soundtrack that I never got around to posting on my way home from my very long day at work (Meet the Teacher Night), and one song stuck out to me. I know that it wasn't necessarily written about infertility, but the message felt very on point.
Ok, I'm not really a Slipknot girl, but they sing every once in a while instead of scream, and "Vermillion, Part 2" is particularly beautiful. I think the music video is pretty grim, but the lyrics really speak to me by themselves. I'll bold the lyrics that mean the most to me.
Ok, I'm not really a Slipknot girl, but they sing every once in a while instead of scream, and "Vermillion, Part 2" is particularly beautiful. I think the music video is pretty grim, but the lyrics really speak to me by themselves. I'll bold the lyrics that mean the most to me.
She seemed dressed in all of me, stretched across my shame.
All the torment and the pain
Leaked through and covered me
I'd do anything to have her to myself
Just to have her for myself
Now I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do when she makes me sad.
She is everything to me
The unrequited dream
A song that no one sings
The unattainable, she's a myth that I have to believe in
All I need to make it real is one more reason
I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do when she makes me sad.
But I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
A catch in my throat choke
Torn into pieces
I won't, no!
I don't wanna be this...
But I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
She isn't real
I can't make her real
She isn't real
I can't make her real
All the torment and the pain
Leaked through and covered me
I'd do anything to have her to myself
Just to have her for myself
Now I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do when she makes me sad.
She is everything to me
The unrequited dream
A song that no one sings
The unattainable, she's a myth that I have to believe in
All I need to make it real is one more reason
I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do when she makes me sad.
But I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
A catch in my throat choke
Torn into pieces
I won't, no!
I don't wanna be this...
But I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
She isn't real
I can't make her real
She isn't real
I can't make her real
Monday, September 8, 2014
Half-grieving
I've been half-grieving since Thursday, when I got the worst kind of news when trying to referee what could only be described as an epic Greek and Latin Stem Word Pictionary Battle. I was so caught off guard and in the middle of everything that I had to call back later when my students were working individually to process the information. Unfortunately, the second time around, the nurse's news did not improve.
My HSG, the pregnancy hormone, levels did not rise at the rate that they want. They look for at least 66% rise in two days, and mine had gone up just about 33%. What could it be? Well, miscarriage, ectopic pregnancy, a healthy pregnancy that defies the trend (15% chance), or even more unlikely, our single embryo split into twins, one of whom was surviving and the other wasn't. What to do? Wait and repeat on Monday.
Today, I took the initiative and called when it was convenient, and on my school land line since the cell service in my classroom is terrible. I knew it wasn't good when the nurse hesitated to tell me anything at all since Dr. B hadn't reviewed my charts yet. Oh, shit, not the miracle I'd been praying for.
My hormones went up about 30% again, and they're at a good level for someone who is 6 weeks pregnant, but the slow rise makes Dr. B think it's an ectopic pregnancy. Yeah, that's when your baby is growing OUTSIDE of your womb.
Bad stuff. Risk your life to internal bleeding and destroy your lady parts if you don't end it bad stuff. Chose between poisoning your doomed baby with chemotherapy drugs or surgically removing your doomed baby bad stuff.
I go in for a sono to see if it's actually bad stuff, or just an oddity of modern medicine. Maybe we have a perfectly healthy pregnancy and weird hormones. Supposedly it happens (15% is the number that you see), even if it appears to be documented NO WHERE on the internet. NO WHERE.
So, I am trying to be hopeful, to not return my stack of new maternity clothes, to believe in this miracle, in this pregnancy, in the beautiful hatching embryo in the picture. It's hard though, since I am half-grieving. I can't be truly hopeful, but I can't give into the all encompassing grief. I am stuck in between, where no one has anything to say other than they'll be praying for me.
That's where I am. I suppose you can pray for me.
My HSG, the pregnancy hormone, levels did not rise at the rate that they want. They look for at least 66% rise in two days, and mine had gone up just about 33%. What could it be? Well, miscarriage, ectopic pregnancy, a healthy pregnancy that defies the trend (15% chance), or even more unlikely, our single embryo split into twins, one of whom was surviving and the other wasn't. What to do? Wait and repeat on Monday.
Today, I took the initiative and called when it was convenient, and on my school land line since the cell service in my classroom is terrible. I knew it wasn't good when the nurse hesitated to tell me anything at all since Dr. B hadn't reviewed my charts yet. Oh, shit, not the miracle I'd been praying for.
My hormones went up about 30% again, and they're at a good level for someone who is 6 weeks pregnant, but the slow rise makes Dr. B think it's an ectopic pregnancy. Yeah, that's when your baby is growing OUTSIDE of your womb.
Bad stuff. Risk your life to internal bleeding and destroy your lady parts if you don't end it bad stuff. Chose between poisoning your doomed baby with chemotherapy drugs or surgically removing your doomed baby bad stuff.
I go in for a sono to see if it's actually bad stuff, or just an oddity of modern medicine. Maybe we have a perfectly healthy pregnancy and weird hormones. Supposedly it happens (15% is the number that you see), even if it appears to be documented NO WHERE on the internet. NO WHERE.
So, I am trying to be hopeful, to not return my stack of new maternity clothes, to believe in this miracle, in this pregnancy, in the beautiful hatching embryo in the picture. It's hard though, since I am half-grieving. I can't be truly hopeful, but I can't give into the all encompassing grief. I am stuck in between, where no one has anything to say other than they'll be praying for me.
That's where I am. I suppose you can pray for me.
Thursday, August 14, 2014
A prayer for peace of heart
Dear Lord,
Please be with us tomorrow as we try to become parents to another child. Make my womb a healthy place, and steady the hands of our health care professionals. Please be with us if we do conceive, so that we can learn to dedicate ourselves to another child, while raising our son in your image. Please be with us if we do not conceive, so that we can grieve the loss of our hopes and continue the business of being your servants in ways that are within our grasp. Most of all, bring peace to our hearts, no matter the outcome.
In Jesus's name, Amen.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
It burns like hell
It burns as bad or
worse the nurse
warns, matter-of-fact.
Where am I supposed to
put four shots a day?
My already inky belly?
The fleshy bit of
my thigh.
Every night,
Every morning
he watches as I
stick myself.
It burns like hell.
worse the nurse
warns, matter-of-fact.
Where am I supposed to
put four shots a day?
My already inky belly?
The fleshy bit of
my thigh.
Every night,
Every morning
he watches as I
stick myself.
It burns like hell.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
IVF Playlist
I've got a new playlist for this IVF cycle, so I thought I'd take you through it a bit so you can get a glimpse into Wisehubby's and my head space, as well as our sense of humor.
The first part is an ode to the money woes.
"Circumstances", Shemekia Copeland
The words say it all: Circumstances in control of my life; circumstances gonna rule me till the day I die.
"Billionare", Glee Cast Version
Proof that I'm a nerd: I don't even know who originally sang this song, nor do I care to find out. Why? Oh, I want to be a billionaire so freaking bad, buy all of the things I never had.
"Bills, Bills, Bills", Destiny's Child
I kind of want to shout this at the male Dr. B sometimes: Can you pay my bills? Can you pay my telephone bills? Can you pay my automo'bills? Then maybe we can chill. I don't think you do, so you and me are through.
OK, here comes my fucked up section. Enjoy the cray-cray!
The first part is an ode to the money woes.
"Circumstances", Shemekia Copeland
The words say it all: Circumstances in control of my life; circumstances gonna rule me till the day I die.
"Billionare", Glee Cast Version
Proof that I'm a nerd: I don't even know who originally sang this song, nor do I care to find out. Why? Oh, I want to be a billionaire so freaking bad, buy all of the things I never had.
"Bills, Bills, Bills", Destiny's Child
I kind of want to shout this at the male Dr. B sometimes: Can you pay my bills? Can you pay my telephone bills? Can you pay my automo'bills? Then maybe we can chill. I don't think you do, so you and me are through.
OK, here comes my fucked up section. Enjoy the cray-cray!
"Bitch Went Nuts", Ben Folds
Oh, the bitch went nuts, but everyone thought she might, oh holy fucking shit. It's the stress that makes me crazy, not the drugs. I am prone to crazy ass mood swings, even when I'm not on the hormone therapy yet. Explain that one to me!
"Artificial Nocturne", Metric
Oh, the bitch went nuts, but everyone thought she might, oh holy fucking shit. It's the stress that makes me crazy, not the drugs. I am prone to crazy ass mood swings, even when I'm not on the hormone therapy yet. Explain that one to me!
"Artificial Nocturne", Metric
I'm as fucked up as they say. I can't fake the daytime, found an entrance to escape into the dark, got false lights for the sun. It's an artificial nocturne, an outsider's escape for a broken heart. I'm me. All that I believe, I set myself free. So take all the time you need, and let yourself be.
"Scar Tissue", Red Hot Chili Peppers
Blood loss in a bathroom stall, southern girl with a scarlet drawl. Wave good-bye to ma and pa 'cause with the birds I'll share, with the birds I'll share this lonely view. With the birds I'll share this lonely view.
Blood loss in a bathroom stall, southern girl with a scarlet drawl. Wave good-bye to ma and pa 'cause with the birds I'll share, with the birds I'll share this lonely view. With the birds I'll share this lonely view.
This southern girl actually stopped in a bathroom stall at a place called Country Burger to take a pregnancy test during her miscarriage. How fucked up is that?
"Breaking the Girl", Red Hot Chili Peppers
"Twisting and turning, your feelings are burning. You're breaking the girl. She meant you no harm. Think you're so clever..."
"Annie Wants a Baby", Red Hot Chili Peppers
Annie wants a baby now. Annie wants a baby any way she can. Missing pieces, she's got a lot of em.
Time decreases, I wish I thought of em before. Before it's time to close the store. Oh yeah. Installation,
A lonely sink of fame. Some liberation, the only seed we ever plant. I wanna help you but I can't. No, no.
"Hallelujah", Jeff Buckley
Baby I've been here before. I've seen this room and I've walked this floor (you know). I used to live alone before I knew you. And I've seen your flag on the marble arch and love is not a victory march. It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah. Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah...
Enough wallowing, here comes the upswing! Wisesister will be so proud! Also, can you tell that my favorite band of all time is Red Hot Chili Peppers? Weird, right?
"Factory of Faith", Red Hot Chili Peppers
Be my wife, I think you right that we should mate. Tell your friends, I got a factory of faith. Late last night, I had a dream that it was great. Tell your friends, I got a factory of faith. I got a factory of... Faith. And love.
"Let Go", Frou Frou
I tried so very hard not to lose it. I came up with a million excuses. I thought I thought of every possibility.
And I know someday that it'll all turn out. You'll make me work so we can work to work it out. And promise you, kid, that I'll give so much more than I get. I just haven't met you yet.
I might have to wait. I'll never give up. I guess it's half timing, And the other half's luck. Wherever you are. Whenever it's right. You'll come out of nowhere and into my life.
And I know that we can be so amazing. And baby your love is gonna change me. And now I can see every possibility...
They say all's fair in love and war, but I won't need to fight it. We'll get it right and, we'll be united...
I just haven't met you yet. Ohh, promise you, kid, to give so much than I get. (I said love, love, love, love...) I just haven't met you yet.
How far do I have to go to get to you? Many the miles, many the miles. How far do I have to go to get to you? Many the miles. But send me the miles, and I'll be happy to.
No wonder your heart feels it's flying. Your head feels it's spinning. Each happy ending's a brand new beginning. Let yourself be enchanted, you just might break through to ever ever after...
"Breaking the Girl", Red Hot Chili Peppers
"Twisting and turning, your feelings are burning. You're breaking the girl. She meant you no harm. Think you're so clever..."
"Annie Wants a Baby", Red Hot Chili Peppers
Annie wants a baby now. Annie wants a baby any way she can. Missing pieces, she's got a lot of em.
Time decreases, I wish I thought of em before. Before it's time to close the store. Oh yeah. Installation,
A lonely sink of fame. Some liberation, the only seed we ever plant. I wanna help you but I can't. No, no.
"Hallelujah", Jeff Buckley
Baby I've been here before. I've seen this room and I've walked this floor (you know). I used to live alone before I knew you. And I've seen your flag on the marble arch and love is not a victory march. It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah. Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah...
Enough wallowing, here comes the upswing! Wisesister will be so proud! Also, can you tell that my favorite band of all time is Red Hot Chili Peppers? Weird, right?
"Factory of Faith", Red Hot Chili Peppers
Be my wife, I think you right that we should mate. Tell your friends, I got a factory of faith. Late last night, I had a dream that it was great. Tell your friends, I got a factory of faith. I got a factory of... Faith. And love.
"Let Go", Frou Frou
So let go. Jump in. Oh well whatcha waiting for? It's all right 'cause there's beauty in the breakdown.
"When We All Get to Heaven", Brad Paisley
Let us then be true and faithful, trusting, serving every day; Just one glimpse of Him in glory will the toils of life repay.
"View from Heaven", Yellowcard
"When We All Get to Heaven", Brad Paisley
Let us then be true and faithful, trusting, serving every day; Just one glimpse of Him in glory will the toils of life repay.
"View from Heaven", Yellowcard
And I'm sure the view from heaven beats the hell out of mine here. And if we all believe in heaven, maybe we'll make it through one more year down here.
"Way Back into Love", Hugh Grant and Haley Bennett
All I wanna do is find a way back into love, I can't make it through without a way back into love, and if I open my heart to you, I'm hoping you'll show me what to do, and if you help me to start again, you know that I'll be there for you in the end!
"Book of Love", Peter Gabriel
The book of love is long and boring and written very long ago. It's full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes and things we're all too young to know. But I love it when you give me things, and you, you ought to give me wedding rings.
"Such Great Heights", Iron and Wine
They will see us waving from such great heights, 'come down now,' they'll say. But everything looks perfect from far away. 'Come down now,' but we'll stay...
"Broken Road", Rascal Flatts
Now I'm just rolling home into my lover's arms. This much I know is true: That God blessed the broken road that led me straight to you.
"In the Waiting Line", Zero 7
Wasting my time in the waiting line. Do you believe in what you see? Nine to five, living lies, everyday, stealing time.
"Haven't Met You Yet", Michael Buble
I'm not surprised. Not everything lasts. I've broken my heart so many times I stopped keeping track. Talk myself in. I talk myself out. I get all worked up, then I let myself down.I tried so very hard not to lose it. I came up with a million excuses. I thought I thought of every possibility.
And I know someday that it'll all turn out. You'll make me work so we can work to work it out. And promise you, kid, that I'll give so much more than I get. I just haven't met you yet.
I might have to wait. I'll never give up. I guess it's half timing, And the other half's luck. Wherever you are. Whenever it's right. You'll come out of nowhere and into my life.
And I know that we can be so amazing. And baby your love is gonna change me. And now I can see every possibility...
They say all's fair in love and war, but I won't need to fight it. We'll get it right and, we'll be united...
I just haven't met you yet. Ohh, promise you, kid, to give so much than I get. (I said love, love, love, love...) I just haven't met you yet.
I just haven't met you yet.
"Many the Miles", Sara Barielles
Red letter day and I'm in a blue mood, wishing that blue would just carry me away. I've been talking to God. Don't know if it's helping or not, but surely something has got to got to got to give 'cause I can't keep waiting to live.How far do I have to go to get to you? Many the miles, many the miles. How far do I have to go to get to you? Many the miles. But send me the miles, and I'll be happy to.
"Happiness Loves Company", Red Hot Chili Peppers
Make time for love and your happiness. The mothers of invention are the best. We all learn and struggle with some loneliness. A tender mess for everyone I guess.
"God Put a Smile on your Face", Coldplay
Where do we go? Nobody knows. Don't ever say you're on your way down when God gave you style and gave you grace and put a smile upon your face.
"Dog Days are Over", Florence and the Machine
The dog days are over. The dog days are done. The horses are coming, so you better run.
"Ever Ever After", Carrie Underwood
Storybook endings, fairy tales coming true. Deep down inside we want to believe they still do. And a secret is taught, it's our favorite part of the story. Let's just admit we all want to make it to ever ever after.
Storybook endings, fairy tales coming true. Deep down inside we want to believe they still do. And a secret is taught, it's our favorite part of the story. Let's just admit we all want to make it to ever ever after.
Starting your fashion, wear your heart on your sleeve. Sometimes you reach what's real just by making believe, unafraid, unashamed. There is joy to be claimed in this world. You even might wind up being glad to be you... Though the world will tell you it's not smart... The world can be yours if you let your heart believe in ever after.
No wonder your heart feels it's flying. Your head feels it's spinning. Each happy ending's a brand new beginning. Let yourself be enchanted, you just might break through to ever ever after...
"Dance, Dance, Dance", Red Hot Chili Peppers
Dance, dance, dance, dance! All night long, yes all night long! Dance, dance, dance, dance! We got strong, yes we got strong!
"What I am", will.i.am and the Sesame Street monsters
If what I am is what's in me, then I'll stay strong; that's who I'll be, and I will always be the best"me" that I can be. There's only one me, I am it. Have a dream, I'll follow it. It's up to me to try. Oh! I'm a keep my head up high, keep on reaching high! Never gonna quit! I'll be getting stronger. And nothing's gonna bring me down! (no!) Never gonna stop, gotta go. Because I know, I'll keep getting stronger.
"Damn Girl", Justin Timberlake
That's got me saying, "Damn girl, you're so fine!"Wednesday, February 1, 2012
"Elegy"
"Elegy"
from Want by Rick Barot
In this rain we are moved to anecdotes.
That people float candles out to the river.
That in a field there is the crickets' grief.
It could be colder just now but it isn't.
Though there are the posters' missing faces.
Though a car is upside down, wheel turning.
The day will only want to keep arriving.
We will startle for the clothes by the bed.
For the vein glowing green on the thigh.
The coffee will come black in its cup.
The bread will be made of something clean.
This will not seem enough and it isn't:
The white nouns of the moon, the paper.
The handkerchief pulled from an empty fist.
from Want by Rick Barot
In this rain we are moved to anecdotes.
That people float candles out to the river.
That in a field there is the crickets' grief.
It could be colder just now but it isn't.
Though there are the posters' missing faces.
Though a car is upside down, wheel turning.
The day will only want to keep arriving.
We will startle for the clothes by the bed.
For the vein glowing green on the thigh.
The coffee will come black in its cup.
The bread will be made of something clean.
This will not seem enough and it isn't:
The white nouns of the moon, the paper.
The handkerchief pulled from an empty fist.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Nothing Left Beneath
It’s been a decade since I first slipped
this mask on,
the day my mother said
goodbye to her child.
You left me,
a broken girl, masked for protection.
I unmasked myself
only in that split second before I fell
asleep, drifting into a void
of feeling.
My mask became a part of me,
the way my friends don’t recognize me
without my eye glasses.
When I said goodbye last year
to my child
whom I’d never met,
I tried to take off the mask.
That’s when I found that there was
nothing left
beneath.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Well, balls!
I'm not going to get into major specifics here because I'm pretty sure Wisehubby would kill me for talking too graphically about his reproductive organs. Plus, I'd have to kill you, dear reader, if I knew you were spending too much time thinking about Wisehubby's reproductive parts.
As vaguely as an over-sharer like me can be, here is the story: his surgery went textbook perfectly on one side, and left things looking a wee bit abnormal on the other. His urologist brought him back in early for a follow-up and swears that the functionality should be fine. There may be ways to correct the abnormality in the future, if nature doesn't right itself.
I know that almost every time I post I use the expression "it's been tough", but I mean it this time. Wisehubby has been my rock and source of comfort through everything, but I've been struggling to do that for him. The first couple of days post-surgery, Wisehubby was sore and drugged and lying flat on his back, so that was pretty easy. I brought him ice, gave him medicine, cooked him dinner, and even learned to mow the lawn. Since he started being more mobile, it's been harder to baby him and keep him from comforting me.
I know Wisehubby doesn't like being made a fuss of, but he does deserve to be treated that way. I learned to love aggressively from my family, and I am so grateful that they have supported me in loving him aggressively both this week and during our entire marriage. Wisesister called a couple of times a day, just to check in, since she couldn't make the drive out to see Wisehubby. My parents didn't ask if they could bring lunch; instead, they asked, "What would you like us to bring over for lunch?"
So, my family, his family, our friends, and I fought the good fight this week, but I don't think it's made much of a difference. Wisehubby has had a long string of bad news related to his manhood, and it is starting to take a major toll. First, he's got weird-shaped sperm. Then, his hormone levels are off and he has low count, too. Then, he's told that IVF with ICSI will overcome our problems, but none of our 22 fertilized eggs survive either in the womb or for freezing. Finally, his urologist offers the panacea of varicocele repair, a painful surgery that will supposedly improve many of these issues and the health of embryos in the early stages of growth. Of course, you know how that works out.
What's hurting Wisehubby isn't the longer than anticipated incisions, or his swollen and bruised man-parts, or even the sore throat that he developed because of intubation. What's hurting him is that he feels like he's failing. He longs for a family; you can see it in the way he plays with our niece and our friends' children. He knows how much I long for a family; he's never been able to say no or disappoint me. He knows how much our families long for Wisebaby; he wants our children to grow up surrounded by love. He knows how much our friends ache to see our desires fulfilled; they talk about the day that we have prayed for for so long. So, yeah, he's not just disappointing himself or me, but a whole slew of people that he would do anything for.
So, we'll just have to keep trying to love Wisehubby aggressively as he deals with another set-back. Well, we can also make a few good ball jokes along the way; he seems to like those.
As vaguely as an over-sharer like me can be, here is the story: his surgery went textbook perfectly on one side, and left things looking a wee bit abnormal on the other. His urologist brought him back in early for a follow-up and swears that the functionality should be fine. There may be ways to correct the abnormality in the future, if nature doesn't right itself.
I know that almost every time I post I use the expression "it's been tough", but I mean it this time. Wisehubby has been my rock and source of comfort through everything, but I've been struggling to do that for him. The first couple of days post-surgery, Wisehubby was sore and drugged and lying flat on his back, so that was pretty easy. I brought him ice, gave him medicine, cooked him dinner, and even learned to mow the lawn. Since he started being more mobile, it's been harder to baby him and keep him from comforting me.
I know Wisehubby doesn't like being made a fuss of, but he does deserve to be treated that way. I learned to love aggressively from my family, and I am so grateful that they have supported me in loving him aggressively both this week and during our entire marriage. Wisesister called a couple of times a day, just to check in, since she couldn't make the drive out to see Wisehubby. My parents didn't ask if they could bring lunch; instead, they asked, "What would you like us to bring over for lunch?"
So, my family, his family, our friends, and I fought the good fight this week, but I don't think it's made much of a difference. Wisehubby has had a long string of bad news related to his manhood, and it is starting to take a major toll. First, he's got weird-shaped sperm. Then, his hormone levels are off and he has low count, too. Then, he's told that IVF with ICSI will overcome our problems, but none of our 22 fertilized eggs survive either in the womb or for freezing. Finally, his urologist offers the panacea of varicocele repair, a painful surgery that will supposedly improve many of these issues and the health of embryos in the early stages of growth. Of course, you know how that works out.
What's hurting Wisehubby isn't the longer than anticipated incisions, or his swollen and bruised man-parts, or even the sore throat that he developed because of intubation. What's hurting him is that he feels like he's failing. He longs for a family; you can see it in the way he plays with our niece and our friends' children. He knows how much I long for a family; he's never been able to say no or disappoint me. He knows how much our families long for Wisebaby; he wants our children to grow up surrounded by love. He knows how much our friends ache to see our desires fulfilled; they talk about the day that we have prayed for for so long. So, yeah, he's not just disappointing himself or me, but a whole slew of people that he would do anything for.
So, we'll just have to keep trying to love Wisehubby aggressively as he deals with another set-back. Well, we can also make a few good ball jokes along the way; he seems to like those.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
I am a woman.
At a women's group luncheon at church, we were doing some visioning because we have a female pastor on staff for the first time in years. The women's group has fallen apart a bit, by and by, and so we were discussing what we wanted out of it. This naturally lead to a discussion of the importance of not making it something available only to one generation, but to get women, especially younger women, to participate. Then, someone posed the question of what we were defining a younger woman to be. Then came the answer that I least wanted to hear: Someone who has young children.
What does that mean for me? Am I not a woman? Does my childless status somehow disqualify me as being a real woman?
I am sure that the woman didn't mean offense, but there is this sense that a woman is not really fulfilled until she has a child. That her life somehow lacks purpose or meaning. That she is not a woman. She's still just a girl in a grown-up body.
Well, I'm fucking sorry that my grown-up body rejected the only baby that my husband and I have managed to make in our five years of marriage. I'm sorry that despite shelling out $16, 000 for invitro fertilization, all I have to show for it is a fridge full of meds, a box full of needles, and a picture of two blastocysts that were washed out of me by a river of blood nine days after they went in. Oh, yes, I forgot that I've also got a heart that's been broken three times over.
I wanted to scream and shout about it at church, but that wouldn't have been very proper, so I am doing it here.
I am a real woman.
I am not defined by my womb.
I am not childish.
I am devestated.
I am surviving.
I am childless.
I am tired.
I am.
What does that mean for me? Am I not a woman? Does my childless status somehow disqualify me as being a real woman?
I am sure that the woman didn't mean offense, but there is this sense that a woman is not really fulfilled until she has a child. That her life somehow lacks purpose or meaning. That she is not a woman. She's still just a girl in a grown-up body.
Well, I'm fucking sorry that my grown-up body rejected the only baby that my husband and I have managed to make in our five years of marriage. I'm sorry that despite shelling out $16, 000 for invitro fertilization, all I have to show for it is a fridge full of meds, a box full of needles, and a picture of two blastocysts that were washed out of me by a river of blood nine days after they went in. Oh, yes, I forgot that I've also got a heart that's been broken three times over.
I wanted to scream and shout about it at church, but that wouldn't have been very proper, so I am doing it here.
I am a real woman.
I am not defined by my womb.
I am not childish.
I am devestated.
I am surviving.
I am childless.
I am tired.
I am.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Inspired by grief
I had the opportunity to meet Jordan Sonnenblick, the author of several moving novels for young adults including Drums, Girls, and Dangerous Pie and Notes from the Midnight Driver this week at school. He gave my students a talk about how he was inspired to write his first two novels. Drums, Girls, and Dangerous Pie was inspired by a student of his whose brother was sick with cancer. Her experience, though challenging, was positive and moved him profoundly.
Notes from the Midnight Driver, on the other hand, was born of a few challenging situations. Sonnenblick had an eighth grade class from hell that gave him grief. In the midst of struggling with his students, he reflected on his dark times as a teenager, while his parents were getting divorced, and how his grandfather was his rock. As an adult, his grandfather was slipping away slowly because of Alzheimer's. Sonnenblick took a combination of those dark situations in his life and created a beautiful novel about a kid learning to move beyond the shit in his life that he couldn't control.
Afterward, I made a point to introduce myself to Sonnenblick. His novel, Zen and the Art of Faking It, is what inspired me to start writing my own novel for young adults, something that I've set aside a bit during my IVF struggles. I mentioned it ever so briefly to him, and he made a point to encourage me to keep writing.
Most of all, I was encouraged to hear him talk about how powerful it is to write about the nasty crap that is going on in your life. That's what this blog is all about, the fall out from the uncontrollable reality of our infertility. That is what my novel is about, the fall out from the untimely death of my brother. Writing can be a healing process.
I'm stricken with grief because of infertility, but I'm inspired by it, too.
Notes from the Midnight Driver, on the other hand, was born of a few challenging situations. Sonnenblick had an eighth grade class from hell that gave him grief. In the midst of struggling with his students, he reflected on his dark times as a teenager, while his parents were getting divorced, and how his grandfather was his rock. As an adult, his grandfather was slipping away slowly because of Alzheimer's. Sonnenblick took a combination of those dark situations in his life and created a beautiful novel about a kid learning to move beyond the shit in his life that he couldn't control.
Afterward, I made a point to introduce myself to Sonnenblick. His novel, Zen and the Art of Faking It, is what inspired me to start writing my own novel for young adults, something that I've set aside a bit during my IVF struggles. I mentioned it ever so briefly to him, and he made a point to encourage me to keep writing.
Most of all, I was encouraged to hear him talk about how powerful it is to write about the nasty crap that is going on in your life. That's what this blog is all about, the fall out from the uncontrollable reality of our infertility. That is what my novel is about, the fall out from the untimely death of my brother. Writing can be a healing process.
I'm stricken with grief because of infertility, but I'm inspired by it, too.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Stepping away for a bit
As Wisesister told me, sometimes you just can't think about your grief because you have to keep moving. I've been on a vacation from my grief for the last couple of weeks. Between Thanksgiving vacation and a trip to Austin, it has been tough to keep up with my Twitter feed and blog.
So you know, I'm down, but not out. I'll probably just take a break between now and our December urology appointment so that I can get through the next nine school days without murdering a middle school student. I'll get you all updated on our WTF appointment and plans for the future at that time. Until then, Merry Christmas and let's all start praying for a much happier new year.
So you know, I'm down, but not out. I'll probably just take a break between now and our December urology appointment so that I can get through the next nine school days without murdering a middle school student. I'll get you all updated on our WTF appointment and plans for the future at that time. Until then, Merry Christmas and let's all start praying for a much happier new year.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Into the fire we went: Our marriage
Last Tuesday, Wisehubby and I had come to the devastating conclusion that we weren't going to be getting pregnant with our first IVF cycle. I had peed on a stick several times, and there wasn't anything going on. I felt decidedly not pregnant, and we began to reflect on what this meant for us.
We've not moved on to our next step; we haven't put away our picture of the Wise-embies that we lost. We haven't even gotten up the courage to call and schedule our follow-up meeting with our RE to talk about what went wrong.
We have decided on a couple of things though. This process, in its own strange way, has been a little bit good for our marriage, which is now at the four and a half year mark. We had a pretty easy go of it until last year, so we have been forging our marriage in the firestorm of infertility.
Wisehubby and I met in college, at a time of relative peace and happiness for both of us. We had both struggled with difficult family situations in high school--he was caught in a particularly nasty custody battle; my brother killed himself. By the time we met, we were both pretty happy to have put some distance between ourselves and our dark pasts.
Don't get me wrong--we've talked about our pasts, but we've generally been living happy lives. Wisehubby graduated first and got a job as a school teacher. We got engaged the summer before I graduated. We married when I was just twenty-two, a newly minted college graduate. I got a job soon thereafter, and then we bought our dream home. We adopted a puppy and later got a new car.
That's about time the firestorm started. If you want to read details of it, might I suggest the following posts: Male Factor Infertility, Out of Control, and Darkest Day. We've been struggling with our infertility now for a while, and we finally sat back and talked specifically about what it has been doing to our marriage.
Wisehubby and I agreed that, while our lives have been full of frustration, disappointment, and loss in the last year, our marriage has become a deeper partnership. We have made concerted efforts to understand how we both deal with darkness in our lives.
Wisehubby has learned to open up and create a network of friends and family for support, largely because he knows that I would collapse under the weight of it all if I didn't. He's graciously allowed me to tweet and blog, and share my story with many more people than he would have chosen to tell. He even stood there with me while I gave myself every shot. He has been my rock.
I've learned to give Wisehubby some space to process before instantly making him talk about things. He doesn't always know what he feels or wants to say right away. He may need a day or two of chilling, playing NCAA Football 2011 or watching Stormchasers, before he can meet me half-way and talk about stuff.
What I can say after coming out of the other side--at least for now--of all of our disappointment is that our marriage is stronger than ever. This last year has bonded us together in new ways that we couldn't have anticipated when we were young, carefree college students falling in love. Let's just pray that we're tough as steel since we've got a long fertility road ahead of us yet.
We've not moved on to our next step; we haven't put away our picture of the Wise-embies that we lost. We haven't even gotten up the courage to call and schedule our follow-up meeting with our RE to talk about what went wrong.
We have decided on a couple of things though. This process, in its own strange way, has been a little bit good for our marriage, which is now at the four and a half year mark. We had a pretty easy go of it until last year, so we have been forging our marriage in the firestorm of infertility.
Wisehubby and I met in college, at a time of relative peace and happiness for both of us. We had both struggled with difficult family situations in high school--he was caught in a particularly nasty custody battle; my brother killed himself. By the time we met, we were both pretty happy to have put some distance between ourselves and our dark pasts.
Don't get me wrong--we've talked about our pasts, but we've generally been living happy lives. Wisehubby graduated first and got a job as a school teacher. We got engaged the summer before I graduated. We married when I was just twenty-two, a newly minted college graduate. I got a job soon thereafter, and then we bought our dream home. We adopted a puppy and later got a new car.
That's about time the firestorm started. If you want to read details of it, might I suggest the following posts: Male Factor Infertility, Out of Control, and Darkest Day. We've been struggling with our infertility now for a while, and we finally sat back and talked specifically about what it has been doing to our marriage.
Wisehubby and I agreed that, while our lives have been full of frustration, disappointment, and loss in the last year, our marriage has become a deeper partnership. We have made concerted efforts to understand how we both deal with darkness in our lives.
Wisehubby has learned to open up and create a network of friends and family for support, largely because he knows that I would collapse under the weight of it all if I didn't. He's graciously allowed me to tweet and blog, and share my story with many more people than he would have chosen to tell. He even stood there with me while I gave myself every shot. He has been my rock.
I've learned to give Wisehubby some space to process before instantly making him talk about things. He doesn't always know what he feels or wants to say right away. He may need a day or two of chilling, playing NCAA Football 2011 or watching Stormchasers, before he can meet me half-way and talk about stuff.
What I can say after coming out of the other side--at least for now--of all of our disappointment is that our marriage is stronger than ever. This last year has bonded us together in new ways that we couldn't have anticipated when we were young, carefree college students falling in love. Let's just pray that we're tough as steel since we've got a long fertility road ahead of us yet.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
A quake and its aftershock
I've got family and friends who live in Oklahoma, and so I have been keeping an eye on the earthquakes they've been having there this week. That entire state is going through mother nature's sick, twisted games.
Last weekend, they had a freeze, earthquakes, and tornadoes all in the matter of three days. This is in a state that never quite recovers from the last devastating fire/drought/ices storm/tornado/hottest summer on record before mother nature unleashes the next surprise. The earthquakes are definitely the shit sprinkles on top of their shit cupcake of natural disasters.
My life has been a lot like Oklahoma in the last year since our miscarriage, and I keep thinking that I'm going to catch a break just around the next corner. I was practically perky during my IVF cycle, which I don't think is a normal emotional response to being constantly prodded in your uterus, stuck with needles, and pumped full of hormones. My positive attitude was a direct result of thinking that I was seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.
Instead, we had another earthquake yesterday morning. On my potty run in between Student Council and first period, I noticed that I had started bleeding; my world was shaken apart. It turned out to just be spotting, but, combined with three big, fat negatives (BFN) on home pregnancy tests, I knew that my hope was unfounded. This was not going to be a happy ending. Our Wise-embies didn't take hold in my uterus. Our family is going to be just two people for another year.
The aftershock came today. I had to go into my RE's for a blood test anyway, even though I knew exactly what was going on with my body. "Well, you need to complete your file. Plus, you never know," says the unhelpful nurse.
So, in between our end-of-the-day tornado drill and practice lock-down drill--what is our world coming too?--I finally heard back from the RE. Sure enough, it's a negative. My world was rocked, but just a little. I'm not even shocked.
So, I texted my support group, which grew leaps and bounds throughout the process, to let them know what was up. I arranged for Wisehubby to eat dinner with my in-laws, since I have to go to my graduate class, where I happen to be typing this blog. I found Wisehubby before I left for the day, told him the news, gave him a big hug, and left him still shaking.
What am I going to do after my earthquakes? Maybe I'll weep and cry and gnash my teeth. Maybe I'll come up with a new action plan.
Let's just hope that a tornado doesn't blow through.
Last weekend, they had a freeze, earthquakes, and tornadoes all in the matter of three days. This is in a state that never quite recovers from the last devastating fire/drought/ices storm/tornado/hottest summer on record before mother nature unleashes the next surprise. The earthquakes are definitely the shit sprinkles on top of their shit cupcake of natural disasters.
My life has been a lot like Oklahoma in the last year since our miscarriage, and I keep thinking that I'm going to catch a break just around the next corner. I was practically perky during my IVF cycle, which I don't think is a normal emotional response to being constantly prodded in your uterus, stuck with needles, and pumped full of hormones. My positive attitude was a direct result of thinking that I was seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.
Instead, we had another earthquake yesterday morning. On my potty run in between Student Council and first period, I noticed that I had started bleeding; my world was shaken apart. It turned out to just be spotting, but, combined with three big, fat negatives (BFN) on home pregnancy tests, I knew that my hope was unfounded. This was not going to be a happy ending. Our Wise-embies didn't take hold in my uterus. Our family is going to be just two people for another year.
The aftershock came today. I had to go into my RE's for a blood test anyway, even though I knew exactly what was going on with my body. "Well, you need to complete your file. Plus, you never know," says the unhelpful nurse.
So, in between our end-of-the-day tornado drill and practice lock-down drill--what is our world coming too?--I finally heard back from the RE. Sure enough, it's a negative. My world was rocked, but just a little. I'm not even shocked.
So, I texted my support group, which grew leaps and bounds throughout the process, to let them know what was up. I arranged for Wisehubby to eat dinner with my in-laws, since I have to go to my graduate class, where I happen to be typing this blog. I found Wisehubby before I left for the day, told him the news, gave him a big hug, and left him still shaking.
What am I going to do after my earthquakes? Maybe I'll weep and cry and gnash my teeth. Maybe I'll come up with a new action plan.
Let's just hope that a tornado doesn't blow through.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
6 Days Post 5 Day Transfer
It's six days after my day five transfer (6dp5dt) of two blastocysts into my womb. I feel tired and emotional. I feel wiped. I don't feel particularly hopeful.
This morning, I caved and took a home pregnancy test (HPT) and it was a big, fat negative (BFN). I know that it was early, and I could get a positive by peeing on a stick (POAS) tomorrow or Tuesday or in my blood test on Wednesday. However, I just feel incredibly defeated. It doesn't help that we're creeping up on the anniversary of my miracle pregnancy and miscarriage. The feelings I'm having are bringing back a whole host of nasty feelings from last year, too.
I'm trying to focus on my head, which says there's still a chance. I'm not being very successful at convincing my hormonal heart, though.
After my BFN, I decided to go back to bed. I had dreams about positive pregnancy tests that felt real. I almost got up and POAS again to see if maybe I had just done it wrong the first time. It was a little devastating.
At church, there were two baptisms and confirmation, both milestones I hope to celebrate someday with my children. The closing song was "This Little Light of Mine". I couldn't choke out the words, lest I burst into tears in the fourth row of a very crowded sanctuary.
I am going to take a nap, get my work down, and pray that tomorrow morning will yield two pink lines.
This morning, I caved and took a home pregnancy test (HPT) and it was a big, fat negative (BFN). I know that it was early, and I could get a positive by peeing on a stick (POAS) tomorrow or Tuesday or in my blood test on Wednesday. However, I just feel incredibly defeated. It doesn't help that we're creeping up on the anniversary of my miracle pregnancy and miscarriage. The feelings I'm having are bringing back a whole host of nasty feelings from last year, too.
I'm trying to focus on my head, which says there's still a chance. I'm not being very successful at convincing my hormonal heart, though.
After my BFN, I decided to go back to bed. I had dreams about positive pregnancy tests that felt real. I almost got up and POAS again to see if maybe I had just done it wrong the first time. It was a little devastating.
At church, there were two baptisms and confirmation, both milestones I hope to celebrate someday with my children. The closing song was "This Little Light of Mine". I couldn't choke out the words, lest I burst into tears in the fourth row of a very crowded sanctuary.
I am going to take a nap, get my work down, and pray that tomorrow morning will yield two pink lines.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Darkest Day
My fear of infertility didn't rear its ugly head until last November when I got pregnant--Pregnant you say? Oh, then why the blog Wise Lady? Just wait...
Anyway, I had been peeing on those early pregnancy sticks for six months, each time they had turned into one pink line, not two. I felt a little sad each time, but, hey, there is always next month.
Then, finally, it turned into two beautiful, faint pink lines. Pregnant! Yippee! I gleefully told my parents and called my sister. I cut back on my caffeine and gloated.
Nine days later, I started to feel like I was cramping. I freaked and called my mom on my way home from my night grad class. I stopped on my way home and took a pregnancy test at a restaurant. It was still positive.
I woke up bleeding the next morning. I was terrified. Wisehubby and I work at the same public school, so he put in for my sub and called my mom and went to work. It's a challenge to take off at the same time without arousing suspicion. Plus, we were only three days out from Thanksgiving Break, so we couldn't take off on Friday without providing documentation, lest we get our pay docked.
I called my OB/GYN's office no less than five times trying to get an appointment. I took a pregnancy test and saw that the pink line had begun to fade. I cried.
Mid-morning, I was squeezed into my doctor's schedule. I found out that I was indeed miscarrying our first Wisebaby. My OB/GYN patted me on my knee and comforted me with the idea that this meant we could get pregnant--little did she know that this was probably our only natural pregnancy, our one in a thousand chance.
I went home and watched the entire mini-series Pillars of the Earth in a daze. Wisehubby rushed home, and I gave him the grim news.
The next morning, still in shock, I got up, put on my school t-shirt, and taught middle school all day long. I know I could have, and should have, taken the remainder of the week off, but then I would have had to have explained myself. Besides, what would I have done all day alone and miserable at home?
It all makes me wonder how many of my teachers taught me while slowly losing the life they had grown to love in such a short period of time. How many of my colleagues have been through the same experience?
That was our darkest day. Yes, we've had some bad days since then, but losing a baby, even one just a few weeks in the making, breaks your heart in two.
Anyway, I had been peeing on those early pregnancy sticks for six months, each time they had turned into one pink line, not two. I felt a little sad each time, but, hey, there is always next month.
Then, finally, it turned into two beautiful, faint pink lines. Pregnant! Yippee! I gleefully told my parents and called my sister. I cut back on my caffeine and gloated.
Nine days later, I started to feel like I was cramping. I freaked and called my mom on my way home from my night grad class. I stopped on my way home and took a pregnancy test at a restaurant. It was still positive.
I woke up bleeding the next morning. I was terrified. Wisehubby and I work at the same public school, so he put in for my sub and called my mom and went to work. It's a challenge to take off at the same time without arousing suspicion. Plus, we were only three days out from Thanksgiving Break, so we couldn't take off on Friday without providing documentation, lest we get our pay docked.
I called my OB/GYN's office no less than five times trying to get an appointment. I took a pregnancy test and saw that the pink line had begun to fade. I cried.
Mid-morning, I was squeezed into my doctor's schedule. I found out that I was indeed miscarrying our first Wisebaby. My OB/GYN patted me on my knee and comforted me with the idea that this meant we could get pregnant--little did she know that this was probably our only natural pregnancy, our one in a thousand chance.
I went home and watched the entire mini-series Pillars of the Earth in a daze. Wisehubby rushed home, and I gave him the grim news.
The next morning, still in shock, I got up, put on my school t-shirt, and taught middle school all day long. I know I could have, and should have, taken the remainder of the week off, but then I would have had to have explained myself. Besides, what would I have done all day alone and miserable at home?
It all makes me wonder how many of my teachers taught me while slowly losing the life they had grown to love in such a short period of time. How many of my colleagues have been through the same experience?
That was our darkest day. Yes, we've had some bad days since then, but losing a baby, even one just a few weeks in the making, breaks your heart in two.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
The Cheerful Griever
11 years ago, I lost WiseBrother in to a sudden and senseless death. I struggled during my formative years to overcome the crippling grief that I was living with, but I did learn at an early age what my grieving style is. I like to think of myself as the cheerful griever.
I'm a firm believer in mind over matter. If you have an intentionally positive attitude about things, you can generally enjoy life. Life--you see--is a series of miserable problems linked together by brief moments of peace, so it is important to cling to the good stuff in order to avoid crippling depression.
Mind you, I've had a long streak of miserable problems. In 1999, my WisePapa, the grandfather who watched me everyday after school, died. 9 months later, in 2000, WiseBrother managed to take his own life--whether he meant to or not, we'll sadly never know. In 2003, WiseMom was diagnosed with kidney cancer during my first semester of college. In 2007, WiseMom was diagnosed with breast cancer during my last semester of college. In 2010, Wisehubby and I got pregnant and rejoiced for 9 glorious days. Then, I miscarried our first Wisebaby at week 6. In 2011, we discovered--after dogging our OB/GYN for answers--that Wisehubby and I weren't getting pregnant because he suffers from several male factor infertility. Oh, yeah, please throw into that mix severe knee cap dislocations and surgeries in 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, and 2011.
Sometimes, it has been trying to stay cheerful. Sometimes, I've stayed cheerful in an artificial way that has hurt myself because of its dishonesty. I try my best to only let positive things exit my mouth about my life, because speaking something makes it so much more real. When asked, "how are you?", I generally answer using the following scale of answers: I'm alive; I'm fine; I'm ok; I'm alright; I'm good; I'm great; and I'm pumped.
If you ever hear from me "I'm alive" or "I'm fine", you should probably take some time to talk to me. If the best thing that I can say about my life is that I am alive, you can bet that I'm teetering on the brink of implosion, If the best thing that I can say about my life is fine, then I am lying to you in a major way. My life isn't fine; it feels out of control.
I'm the cheerful griever, which makes me more socially palatable. Unfortunately, it also makes mornings like this morning so much harder for my friends and family. This morning, there were thirty minutes in which I struggled to pretend. I wanted to shout at the crowd assembled about the disappointments of my life. I wanted to vent and rant and gnash my teeth. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to crawl into a corner and leave life to other people.
My friends didn't get it. They are used to cheerful Wiselady. They don't know how to react to the Wiselady that has nothing to say. Wiselady is usually so full of words. I can't even face them when I feel like that. They just let me sit by myself this morning; I don't even know if I would have liked company.
I write this to say this: Being a cheerful griever has ups and downs. You can generally improve your mood by trying to see the good in a situation. However, you're not a superhero, so you're bound to have bouts of uncontrollable depression. Unfortunately, the cheerful griever may not find the support she needs when she decides to have a melt-down--unless, of course, she calls Wisesister, and then she's got a listening ear who understands exactly what it is like to grieve when no one knows what to do.
I'm a firm believer in mind over matter. If you have an intentionally positive attitude about things, you can generally enjoy life. Life--you see--is a series of miserable problems linked together by brief moments of peace, so it is important to cling to the good stuff in order to avoid crippling depression.
Mind you, I've had a long streak of miserable problems. In 1999, my WisePapa, the grandfather who watched me everyday after school, died. 9 months later, in 2000, WiseBrother managed to take his own life--whether he meant to or not, we'll sadly never know. In 2003, WiseMom was diagnosed with kidney cancer during my first semester of college. In 2007, WiseMom was diagnosed with breast cancer during my last semester of college. In 2010, Wisehubby and I got pregnant and rejoiced for 9 glorious days. Then, I miscarried our first Wisebaby at week 6. In 2011, we discovered--after dogging our OB/GYN for answers--that Wisehubby and I weren't getting pregnant because he suffers from several male factor infertility. Oh, yeah, please throw into that mix severe knee cap dislocations and surgeries in 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, and 2011.
Sometimes, it has been trying to stay cheerful. Sometimes, I've stayed cheerful in an artificial way that has hurt myself because of its dishonesty. I try my best to only let positive things exit my mouth about my life, because speaking something makes it so much more real. When asked, "how are you?", I generally answer using the following scale of answers: I'm alive; I'm fine; I'm ok; I'm alright; I'm good; I'm great; and I'm pumped.
If you ever hear from me "I'm alive" or "I'm fine", you should probably take some time to talk to me. If the best thing that I can say about my life is that I am alive, you can bet that I'm teetering on the brink of implosion, If the best thing that I can say about my life is fine, then I am lying to you in a major way. My life isn't fine; it feels out of control.
I'm the cheerful griever, which makes me more socially palatable. Unfortunately, it also makes mornings like this morning so much harder for my friends and family. This morning, there were thirty minutes in which I struggled to pretend. I wanted to shout at the crowd assembled about the disappointments of my life. I wanted to vent and rant and gnash my teeth. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to crawl into a corner and leave life to other people.
My friends didn't get it. They are used to cheerful Wiselady. They don't know how to react to the Wiselady that has nothing to say. Wiselady is usually so full of words. I can't even face them when I feel like that. They just let me sit by myself this morning; I don't even know if I would have liked company.
I write this to say this: Being a cheerful griever has ups and downs. You can generally improve your mood by trying to see the good in a situation. However, you're not a superhero, so you're bound to have bouts of uncontrollable depression. Unfortunately, the cheerful griever may not find the support she needs when she decides to have a melt-down--unless, of course, she calls Wisesister, and then she's got a listening ear who understands exactly what it is like to grieve when no one knows what to do.
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