Thoughts on becoming a mother

I know that some of you have seen it before, especially my IF friends.  But, it is something I need to remind myself of time and time again.

Thoughts Of Becoming A Mother

There are women that become mothers without effort, without thought, without patience or loss and though they are good mothers and love their children, I know I will be better.

I will be better not because of genetics or money or that I have read more books, but because I have struggled and toiled for this child. I have longed and waited. I have cried and I prayed. I have endured and planned over and over again.

Like most things in life, the people who truly have appreciation are those who have struggled to attain their dreams. I will notice everything about my child . I will take time to watch my child sleep, explore and discover, I will marvel at this miracle everyday for the rest of my life.

I will be happy when I wake in the middle of the night to the sound of my child, knowing that I can comfort, hold, and feed him and that I am not waking to take another temperature, pop another pill, take another shot or cry tears of a broken dream. My dream will be crying for me.

I count myself lucky in this sense; that God has given me this insight, this special vision with which I will look upon my child that my friends will not see.

Whether I parent a child, I actually give birth to a child God leads me to, I will not be careless with my love.

I will be a better mother for all that I have endured. I am a better wife, a better aunt, a better daughter, neighbor, a friend and a sister because I have known pain.

I know disillusionment as I have been betrayed by my own body. I have been tried by the fire and hell many never face, yet given time, I stood tall.

I have prevailed
I have succeeded
I have won

So now, when others hurt around me I do not run from their pain in order to save myself discomfort. I see it, mourn it, and join them in theirs, I listen.

And even though I cannot make it better, I can make it less lonely. I have learned the immense power of another hand holding tight to mine, of other eyes that moisten, as they learn to accept the harsh truth and when life is beyond hard. I have learn a compassion that only comes with walking in those shoes.

I have learn to appreciate life.

Yes I will be a wonderful mother.

I wish you a happy VD

A couple weeks ago, a friend & I were discussing Valentine’s day, and my total hatred for the holiday. She was a bit surprised at my vehemence about the day.

Let me start by saying my dislike of V-day does not stem from a horrible childhood or teen years where I did not receive flowers from a crush or any unrequited love issues.  When I was a kid, I loved V-day. Making little mailboxes out of an old shoebox. Decorating it with glitter and crimped ribbons and putting the little slot in the top-making sure it was big enough for candy to fit through as well.  Then I would painstakingly go through each card I was to give to my classmates.  I remember My Little Pony, Rainbow Bright, Star Wars, Popples and Pound Puppy cards.  Some were more romantic than others, so obviously those had to be reserved for the special boy(s) of the year. My mom always got the variety candy for me to use with the cards, so I would pick out my favorite candy and also reserve that for the love of the week.  It was a long, arduous process.  Then, the next day at school, the frenzy began.  Each person would laugh and run around the classroom, placing their cards & gifts into the shoeboxes perched on the corner of the desks.  We would try and sneak in the card to our “loves” while they weren’t looking, for fear of embarrassment if they saw us put it in directly.  Then we would sit at our desks and eagerly open each card and sort through the candy, all the while watching our crushes out of the corner of our eyes, trying to gauge their reaction to our specific card.  Of course, all the cards look exactly the same from afar.  And attention still had to be paid to our own gifts.  And then the day was over.  We would swoon for a few days over a particular card or two, trying to put much more meaning into the “you are my candy girl” saying than was truly meant. Then we moved onto different things and different holidays.  Pinch me if I’m not wearing green!!!  Tee hee hee. 

Later, in middle school and high school, the stakes were higher.  Not everyone got a card from me. Just the special one guy at the time.  And, of course, all my best friends.  If there wasn’t a special guy at the moment, the single girls would swoon over the flowers/teddy bear/box of candy that our attached friends received.  We would secretly be jealous. We would watch the breakups of the couples who didn’t do it correctly.  “Jimmy didn’t get you flowers and chocolate and a necklace?  Gees, he gets like $3 a week in allowance.  Why couldn’t he buy it for you???  What a jerk. You were right to dump him.”  So what if they got back together the next week?  It was all about taking a stand! 

So, I enjoyed Valentine’s Day the way it was meant to be enjoyed during the younger years, when “true love” was fickle and changed monthly (or sometimes daily).   Then I grew up. 

I realized that if my significant other needs a specific day to tell me he loves me, there is something wrong in the relationship.   Hallmark, Sees Candy and 1-800-Flowers says you must show me you love me on this very day. 

Men (and women for that matter) painstakingly chose the right card to say everything they aren’t capable of saying themselves.  The card expresses all their emotions and thoughts just right, in the perfect way, describing their relationship exactly as the unique love that it is (and every other relationship that picks the same card).  They sign “I love you” and their name.

Sharing feelings that someone else wrote?  Check!

Next is the candy.  Why on earth candy is a part of “I love you”, I’ll never understand.  Little chalk-tasting hearts with cute little “email me” sayings.  That’s opening up!  A box of wax-like chocolate treats for $30?  It’s the thought that counts.  And the “those damn chocolates went straight to my thighs” for the next 3 months. 

Flowers!!  Oh flowers.  Buy a bouquet of roses in July as an anniversary present, and it’s $19.99 plus a delivery fee.  Buy a bouquet of roses for Valentine’s Day?  $69.99 if preordered by January 1^st, delivery not guaranteed on the 14^th of February and no refunds if they are dead or if they are carnations.  What? You want to throw in a little teddy bear with a “be mine” heart?  Oh, that’s an extra $14.99 and it may end up being a left over Halloween spider.  No refunds or returns. 

And then, my personal favorite, is the jewelry.  Girls, you weren’t special enough to get that heart-shaped diamond necklace you’ve been begging for the whole year.  Until today.  When all your friends got the same one because there was a sale last week.  And the original proposals!!  We got engaged on Valentine’s Day.  Awwwww!!!  So did 90% of every other couple!  How special and original.  He sure put a lot of planning into it.  Of course, the waiter put your ring in the desert of the other table because that guy over there, too, was proposing tonight.

Also, the whole day comes down to the man’s responsibility.  The man has to buy the presents, get the sappy card, make the reservations and basically be who he really isn’t good at being.  All because the calendar says it is February 14^th.  That’s a lot of pressure.  And women really stick it to the guy if they don’t meet expectations.  Sad, but true. 

So, it really comes down to me just disliking the whole basis of the day.  If you love me, tell me.  Every day.  For no reason at all.  Because you love me.  Not because Hallmark and Kay Jewelers says you have to .  Buy me flowers because I am having a bad day, or it’s my birthday, or our anniversary.  A day special to us as a couple. Propose when you want to, not when you feel you are obligated to.  Take your significant other out to dinner to celebrate your love other than the day you are required  to be in love.

The very first Valentine’s Day Keith & I were dating, he got me some flowers and a little hanging monkey.  I did the appropriate swooning and pictures.  I still have the monkey hanging from our bedpost.  And then I told him if he ever wasted money on the day again, I’d kill him.  His words?  “God I love you!” 

Maybe I’m just one of the lucky ones.  He tells me every day that he loves me. Numerous times a day.  With each phone call.  Each email.  Each text message.  We never go to sleep without a kiss goodnight.  We never run to the corner market without “loveyoubye” being said.  A phone call isn’t over until “love you, love you too” is uttered.  He will buy me little gifts because he saw it and wanted to make me smile.  I will get him a card or put a note in his lunchbox because the mood struck me. 

Screw the calendar.  Every day is Valentine’s Day for us.  And I think that’s why I don’t like the holiday.  If every day isn’t Valentine’s Day in your relationship, you may need a different calendar. 

Anniversary Time

Today is our 4 year wedding anniversary. Yay!  I always take the first shower in the morning, and normally when I leave the bathroom, Keith is either still in bed (80% of the time), or he's in the kitchen feeding the mutts.  This morning, he was in the kitchen, but on the bed was a bouquet of Daisy's, a pillow pet and a Kindle gift card!  Such a sweet guy.  For those of you that don't know, Daisy's are my favorite flowers.  I'm positively obsessed with the color baby blue and dolphins.  And I just got a Kindle. So, it was all around a very perfect present-cluster!  Love that man o' mine!

We're going to Epi's tonight for dinner.  It is an amazing basque restaurant that is in a tiny little house, owned and run by two sisters.  It probably seats 40 people at the most.  They make it a very fun experience and the food it to die for.  This will be the 3rd anniversary we spend there, and they remember us by name and number each time!  I'm going to attack those lamb-chops like a fat kid on donuts in Krispie Kream! 

A Heavy Topic

Oh, weight.  And Infertility. How I loathe thee.

So, here's the story:

- my “fat” pants started fitting like those emo-skinny pants that kids wear now.

-I’m Italian.  That means you don’t leave the table without seconds. Ever. It also means that breads, pasta and other starches are the…eh hem…bread and butter of meals.

- I realized that I had two very distinct stomachs.  Split horizontally, not vertically. I have a muffin and a muffin top.

-I got winded walking up the one flight of stairs to our bonus room.

-I don’t drink beer.  Or wine (mostly).  But I do enjoy my sweet “girlie” drinks.  Which, of course, are loaded with soda, sugar, simple syrup, and sweetness.  And occasionally ice cream.  And sugar-rimmed glasses.  And lots of maraschino cherries.

-I don’t like chocolate became an excuse to gorge on gummy worms from my co-worker’s office. Which I just discovered have 293 calories per 10 worms.  I normally ate about 20 worms.  That is almost 600 calories PER SNACK!!!!!

-my stomachs started protruding further than my boobs.  Really?? Even after the surgery, it’s still hard to get bigger than my boobs!

-I asked a friend to tie my shoes because I didn’t want to bend over my stomachs to do it myself.

-I looked at our wedding picture and wistfully thought of how tiny I was; when in reality, I needed to lose weight back then.

-I became unable to shop in the regular sections, but had to start migrating to the “plus”.

-I got out of breath on a brisk 10-minute walk with a co-worker.

-I looked in our pantry and realized there was more processed food and junk than there was healthy food or fruits & veggies.

-I started wearing shorts & a T-shirt to the water park instead of a swim suit.

-I didn’t even try to stop gaining the normal “IVF-15”. 

-I started using infertility and IVF as my excuse to eat whatever I wanted and not exercise.

-I actually started thinking of more and more excuses: I’m grumpy, so I’m eating candy.  I’ve had a hard day, so I’m drinking this soda. I don’t feel like cooking, so I’ll order a pizza.  I forgot to thaw out chicken, so let’s go out. I walked 2 miles yesterday, so I don’t have to move for the next week.  I have a headache/stomachache/shoulder ache.  I didn’t sleep well last night. I have to write this report after work.

- “I’ll admit I’m the laziest person I know” became painfully true.

-I noticed that I had finally topped-out.  My weight hasn’t gone up in 2 months, and I’ve never been heavier than this. Phew.  Wait, what???  Why is that a good thing???

-I desperately want to believe that “I’m not fat, I’m fluffy” is a valid statement.

-Chili’s has 2 for 1 fajitas on Monday night.  They are sinfully good.  We are friends with the bartender (because we went so often), which means most the time, our drinks are free.  So, we could have a couple of drinks & beef fajitas for $20.  What a deal!!  Every. Week.

I’ve dealt with depression before in my life.  I made the mistake - one time, long ago -  of going on Prozac. That did nothing.  I had a sleep study once (1999) and the only thing that came out of it was that I was depressed.  I told them if they met my (ex) husband, they’d be depressed, too.  I finally came to learn that, for me at least, depression was simply due to the circumstances of my life and what I decided to do about it.  I climbed my way out of the hole I was in (and the marriage), discovered the ME that had been lost for so long, and became a happier person.  Issue done. 

I have finally realized in the past 2-3 years, I am depressed again.  Not the same type of depression. This depression has been due to infertility.

I am so amazingly happy with my life now.  Sometimes, I still don’t believe that I have earned this happiness and I’m afraid I’ll do something to lose it. So, I know how precious it is and I truly appreciate it.  However, when it comes to infertility, I get in this black closet of depression.  I feel less-than.  Less than a woman, a wife, a (future) mother. Even less than a friend to those with children and less than an aunt to all my precious family members.  There is a stigma that goes with childless people.  Because I don’t have children of my own, I’ll never understand the powerful love that parents feel for their children.  I’ll never understand what it’s like to be a parent.  Until I have kids of my own, I’m just less of a person.  Now, I don’t believe this for a second.  Hell, I’m a better parent now than half the jackoffs that actually have kids.  I know unconditional love that I would kill for and that overwhelms me because it is so strong. I have that for my husband, my family and my friends.  And for all their children.  But, I also feel like I’m letting everyone down. Keith has so much to give a child, I feel horrible for not being able to give him that gift.  My parents and in-laws are the absolute most AMAZING grandparents on earth, and I can’t give them more grandchildren to love.  My nieces & nephews want cousins to play with, and I can’t give that to them.  I can’t share my “cute kid” story or my “you won’t believe what Johnny did” story, so people tend to not share their stories with me.

So, I’ve become depressed.  It makes me sad to hear of pregnancy stories.  I mean, I am very happy, too!  I love to see my loved ones have happiness in their lives and I love enjoying it with them.  But, ultimately, I will think about my lack of that same happiness.  This leads me to be lazy. And to eat.  And to make excuses.  Granted, it is a fact that every fertility treatment is basically a guarantee of weight gain.  However, I used that as an excuse to allow the weight to stay on. 

So, I’m done with excuses (mostly).  I know that I’ll have lazy days.  I know I’ll lose motivation. I really, really, really, really, reeeeeeaaaaaaallllllllyyyyyy hate exercise.  I swear to you, I’m allergic.  I despise it. I dread it.  I don’t enjoy any minute of it.  I think all the people that jog for fun and go to the gym religiously are actually masochists in disguise.  But, I also know that the weight isn’t going to melt off of me in a sauna, so I’ve got to get my fat ass moving. 

And eating better.  So far, I’m sort-of enjoying the diet.  It’s not too bad of food, and I’m trying some new things (tuna burgers! Hummus!) that I never thought I would try, let alone like.  I’m eating when I’m not hungry to keep the metabolism from snoring.  I’m eating 6 small meals a day, and I’m not hungry.  I’m spending TONS of money on food, but at least it’s healthy food.  I’m cooking more in one day than I used to in a week. I’m doing so many dishes my hands are dry.  But, Keith and I are enjoying cooking together. We’re enjoying our evening walks, and so are the dogs. We’re enjoying motivating each other.

There is a Biggest Loser contest at my office that starts tomorrow.  It’s a $20 buy-in and the winner gets 50%.  I think there are about 25 people joining.  I was already being cocky, saying I was going to win.  But then I saw the rules and the dates.  It ends on my birthday.  So, now I’m destined to win!! 

So I started my diet and exercise kick last week 1/10/11.  So far, I’ve lost 4 pounds. 

Adoption

Last night, Keith & I attended an adoption seminar at a local, private adoption agency here in Boise. The seminar started at 6:30, and we got there at 6:32.  The only reason for being late was because their website listed the number and the street, but not the direction of the street (West vs. East), so we were about 1 mile too far west at first. 

The 2 minutes we missed were the entire introduction about the actual agency (go figure), so we only picked up bits & pieces.  What we could collect from paperwork & further discussion is that “ANB” is a not-for-profit, private adoption agency.  They are licensed in Idaho, Oregon & Utah.  They also do home studies and evaluations for “waiting children” adoptions and international adoptions.  

“Waiting Children” is their name for adoptions done through the foster care system, of children who are in the system & parental rights have been terminated.  Prospective adoptive parents would still have to go through the Foster Care licensing and be approved by Health & Welfare for the adoption.  ANB only does the home study and assists with placement, thus collecting a nice fee. As they were telling us about this program, Keith and I tried (and failed) to reign in our snickering, especially when they continually talked about how wonderful it is to work with Health & Welfare and how easy it is to adopt a child through the foster care program.  Scratch that one off the list.

International adoptions are just that.  ANB does the home study & certification for those as well, then refers you to an international adoption agency to do the rest.  They did tell us that their fee for the international program is $1500. However, most international adoptions cost between $18,000 and $32,000 and take anywhere from 6 months to 2 years.  The cost does not include your travel to the country, which is required at least once, and sometimes up to 3 times.  We had already ruled international adoption out, as we knew that the travel would kill us, not to mention the outrageous cost.  No wonder the celebrities all do it. They have the money and time to blow.

The rest of the seminar was just about local, private adoption.  They network to all 50 states, but most babies come through the three states I mentioned above. 

First, you have to fill out an application, pay an application fee and start the training process.  $300.

Next, you put your name on one or two lists.  If you want a Caucasian baby, you go on a Pre-List.  The Caucasian waiting list is actually full – they do 25 people at most – so you are on a waiting list to go on the waiting list.  When somebody adopts on the list, they open the one spot and you move from the pre-list to the list-list.  No surprise, but Caucasian babies are the most high in demand, and also the hardest to actually find, especially since Caucasian is the most prevalent race in the North West.

They also have the Trans-Racial adoption, which is a baby any other race than your own.  This list is much shorter.  Anyhow, you go on one or both lists.  Once you pass the application and training phase, you move into the home study phase.  They do 3 separate home visits, 3-5 interviews of you, your spouse & both together.  They help you write up a profile, which will be viewed by birth moms.  This is how the birth mom picks the couple to adopt her baby. You have to read a book & write a ‘report’ on it.  They were very specific that you are not writing a book report saying what the book was about (they already know what it is about), but you have to write what you got out of it.  Semantics.  The home study & program is $900 and $750 respectively.  The process takes anywhere from 2-4 months.  

Then, you just wait.  The wait is from 2 months (after you complete the home study & training) to 3 years. 

The placement fee is $10,000, plus a $2,500 medical deposit for a local (3 states) placement.  That does not count the travel expense that we pay if we have to leave Idaho to pick up the baby.   If a baby is available outside of those three states, the placement fee is determined by the out-of-state agency, and can run from $16,000 to $35,000.  If the mom doesn’t have Medicaid or other insurance, we pay the medical costs, as well. 

The only other big surprise was their “Infant Outreach Program”, which is where they teach you how to basically market yourself to prospective birth moms (see: Juno).  They teach you what you can legally say, do, write, etc.  You can set up a web site, an 800-number, and/or business cards to get the word out across the nation that you are looking to adopt.  Birth moms can find you on the internet and not necessarily just through ANB.  If ANB helps you through this kind of adoption, the placement fee drops to $8,500, but you also pay $150 a month for a program fee for them to be there “in-case” you have any legal or counseling questions.  I think they also put you on a waiting list, but this is apparently a quicker way to get a baby. 

There are some stipulations for each type of adoption regarding our ages, number of children in the home, etc.  For the local adoptions, each applicant must be between the ages of 25 and 45, and can have no more than one child. 

We haven’t been completely on the adoption bandwagon yet.  We’ve never been told that we cannot conceive children of our own.  We still have 2 frozen cycles we can do when we can come up with the money. 

While we haven’t ruled out adoption completely, it’s on a back table in a back room in the basement, behind boxes.  We decided after the seminar last night, if we were to spend that kind of money for a baby, we might as well do one or two more IVF cycles and have our own biological child.  Again, it’s not like we have money to do that either…but if we’re spending the money, we’d rather do IVF again. 

So, next time someone asks, we can say “Yes!  We have looked into adoption, and it isn’t for us, at least not at this time.” 

It still simply amazes me that you must have an incredibly disposable income to overcome infertility.