Tagged
I will be back later for an update and news, but for now I only have time to do this. Dooneybug tagged me, so there you go!
THE RULES:
1. Go into your archive.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag five people to do the same.
It is not something we talk about a lot when it is not part of our reality.
I was talking about the naivety of others regarding conception and infertility.
I'm not gonna tag anybody because I think everyone who reads here has already been tagged. If not, well, consider yourself tagged!
The circle of life
When we learned I was pregnant, a good friend of P had just died from liver cancer. For months, cancer ravaged his body and killed him slowly. I know his death was very hard on P. I know he still thinks a lot about his friend, mentor, collegue and he misses him. On his desk, in his pencil older are his friend's In Memoriam card and a positive pregnancy test, side by side. We often say when one person dies, another is born. Not sure if it's really true, but these two objects, one from someone's life beginning, the other from someone's life ending, are a reminder of how fragile life can be.
My friend's father died yesterday morning from liver cancer too. Even if I was expecting Patricia's father's death, it fills me with sadness. Life is strange, as a cycle. People sometimes go too soon, others are born at the wrong time or place. There's nothing we can do about it. I touch my belly, feel Pépin kicking and see how strong life can also be. I am lucky to have him with me, to be carrying life. I am also lucky to have both my parents here to live that happiness with us.
Once again, I am reminded to live my life to the fullest.
Goodbye Réal. You're in my thoughts Patricia.
Finally some weight
I had my 4th routine appointment this morning. I bet with P I had gained 5 pounds. At my last appointment, I was still on the negative side (from mystarting weight). I hoped I had finally gained some pounds (might be the only time in my life I wish that!). Well, I was surprised! I gained 7 pounds in one month! The poutines* and chocolate chips cookies green salads and fresh fruits finally made the trick. But of course, as drs are never satisfied, he told me it was good I had finally gained some weight, but not to gain more. 7 punds in one month is a lot. I don't think I'll make this a habbit. This month was different. I was so affraid not to gain weight that I ate like a pig. Now that I know I'm back on track, I will try and contain myself.
Blood pressure is fine and my belly measure too. Pépin's heartbeat was still strong and beautiful. Everything is going well. Dr gave me a script for Preg-vit instead of Maternas to help with the constipation. We also asked if P could be the one cutting the cord when our son is born and the dr said they always ask the father to do it. That's nice, it's very important for P and I.
Almost 5 months along already. It goes so fast! We say it all the time, but it's true! 5 beautiful months, nothing to complain. Only 4 months left with my little boy this close to me. I am his world for the moment and I plan to enjoy every second left of my time with him inside my belly.
*Poutine is a Quebecer speciality: something like french fries with gravy and melted cheddar. Mmmm.
Not that old
I really liked my aqua fitness class. The women are nice and the exercise felt good. The strangest thing is, I felt so very young. Age has always been a stressful point for me, TTC wise. I mean, I don't think I am old, being 28. But when you hear the biological clock ticking so loud, when you see time slipping through your fingers so fast, you feel a lot of pressure. I felt rushed by time, by my age. I did not want to have my kids too late, to waste my youth waiting and hoping and taking pills. I did not feel old, no, but knowing that you lose fertility everyday after 25 added an extra pressure to my already not so good fertility.
Yesterday, we all said our name, where we were at in our pregnancy, if we knew the gender. Almost everybody said their age too. Out of the 12 women, we were only 3 under 30. Most of them were 33 or 35 and pregnant with their first child. I looked at them and thought they were all so pretty with their round belly. They were not old at all! That's when it hit me: 35 years old, it's 7 years older than me. In 7 years, I can do a lot! And 35 is still very young! That gives me some time, without feeling old or rushed. I looked at them and I felt very, very young and very, very lucky.
It might not be a big deal in itself, but it made my heart give a big sigh of relief, knowing we're not that late in our timeline.
Whales
I'm gonna spend one hour in a pool with pregnant women tonight. One hour with fertile pregnant women. I don't know these women, I don't know what they have been through. But statistically, in the 12 women there, ther might only be one other infertile besides me. So, I'm gonna be swimming with fertiles.
I hate the way I feel when I'm with them. I feel like I'm not good enough, or not as special as I would think. Because I did not succeed on the first try, because I cannot simply jump and laugh whenever I hear a pregnancy announcement, I feel different. I may be stronger, more aware of the chance I have to be pregnant now, but it doesn't matter. Noone knows. That it took us 3 years to get here, that it took so many pills and appointments, that we had to go through all that pain, rage and jalousy, it doesn't change anything to the result: I am pregnant, as they are. For them, I'm one of them. For me, I'm a minority.
What I don't like about their presence is their way of seeing life through pink tinted glasses, their way of only knowing the nice side of reproduction. I envy that, I wish I still had that naivety and ease to beleive everything's done and good as soon as the hpt's positive. I don't think they'll say insensitive things that would make that sleeping enraged infertile in me go nuts. But I'll be on the lookout, just in case.
But besides that, I'm looking forward to tonight. I'm looking forward to doing something only for Pépin and me. I'm looking forward to live this mom-to-be experience.
Tonight, we're gonna be 12 whales floating, our bellies coming out of the water like little icebergs. And I'm gonna be one of them, even if for only one hour.
Definition
When I think about "women different than me", I think about those who did not have to wait to have a baby. I think about those who had to try for a month or two before seeing that second pink line on the pregnancy test and never had to wonder if that one was gonna stick. I think about those who don't know there are other women like me and thousands of others who have to wait for years, facing despair, countless tests and so much pain "just" to have a baby. That we took pills or not, that we gave up hope or that we have tried everything under the sun, for me, it doesn't change a thing. What makes us different than those other women is the wait and the effort we need to put out, every cycle, to pick ourselves up and go on. No matter if we wait for 10 months or 3 years, it's difficult, period. Of course, the pain changes, evolves with time. Emotions become more and more raw, we become more and more bitter. But the wait, the desire, the impatience, the injustice and despair are the same. It's always too long.
I never thought of myself as superior in any way than fertile women. I'm just different, that's all. Not better, not worse, just different. I could think of a dozen things I envy them. But I can also think of a dozen things they could envy us. If they knew.
Reading all the blogs I read everyday, from all these wonderful women coming from so many different places, having such different histories, always gave me hope and kept my feet on the ground. They now make me realise and grasp the luck we have, the chance we were given to live what we are now living.
Yes, I still consider myself infertile, even with my son growing in me. I know that if one day, we want to expand our family, we may be facing the same road. It scares me, but I keep hoping, no matter what. Reading from you out there, doing IVF, adopting, doing ART or simply waiting and hoping, keeps my feet on the ground and my dream alive.
Cleaning up
My home office was a real mess. Tons of bills, invoices, folders, birthday cards, magazines, all mixed up on the floor. I usually am a very organised person and my office is the first place I keep really clean. I had stopped cleaning up only because I was lazy and things started pilling up. Anyway, it was in dire need of cleaning and organising.
On my desk, I always have a big table calendar, the kind you lay on the desk and write on or put you coffee mug on and leave a nice coffee ring... Every month I tear the big page off to discover an brand new page, a brand new month. I always keep the last month's sheet close at hand in case I need to look back at some notes I took or at some dates. So I fold the past month and place it in a folder in my drawer. When I was cleaning up, I found lots of these sheets. In fact, almost a whole year in folded pages in my folder and on the floor. I looked at the months that had just past and saw the little numbers scribbled on the corners of some days. Those were the weeks of my pregnancy. Then I looked at some older months and saw other little numbers. Cycle days, days post-ovulation, sad anniversaries (miscarriage, months and years TTC, etc.), so many memories of my infertility, scribbled on the corners of these squares. It made me feel weird to look back at them. I almost felt as if I was looking at another person's belongings. But no... Not so long ago, that was my reality. Everything was calculated and noted: temperature, days, hopes. Not so long ago, I was dreaming about being pregnant, I was counting the days, I could only see 2 weeks ahead in the future. I never saw further than that, never dared to look anyway. Every morning, I would enter my temperature and symptoms and such on FF, then on my paper chart in my binder where they all were, since the beginning. That binder contained all my TTC history: all the charts, my prescriptions, documentation, records. I counted how many more days I had to wait, I looked at my chart again and again, hoping I would find something that would tell me something good. I was tired, sick of this whole ordeal, discouraged, but it was all part of my routine. I almost did not see it anymore, so much it was a part of me. Counting and taking notes and following that routine had become natural for me. A part of who I was, of my life. I was hoping it would change, but I couldn't really see my life otherwise.
All these calendar pages, all these little numbers and days spent hoping are over. I put it all in the recycling bin. I will never forget those months, those days of worry, frustration and hope, but they are no longer a part of my day to day reality. Maybe they will come back one day. But for now, my reality is very different. It's moving in my belly, making me thank heavens every day for the chance we have to be living this. My reality now is even more beautiful than I would have ever imagined back in those days of counting and calculating.
Feels good to clean up once in a while...
My baby loves Survivor
Yesterday, P and I were sitting confortably watching the premiere of the new season of Survivor. I've been feeling the baby move a lot for the last 3 weeks, but nothing like last night! Guess Pépin loves Survivor because he kicked and danced and moved around during the whole show. P kept his hand on my belly and looked at me with surprise and a big smile everytime he felt something move under his hand. It's so much fun to feel the baby move, but to be able to share that with P is even better. And watching Survivor at the same time, what more could I ask for?
Halfway there
I'm halfway between conceiving and having a baby. Half of my pregnancy is already done, already! I look behind and I am really amazed by the road we have travelled to get here. I look ahead and I see lots of excitment, love and axiety all mixed up. I can't wait to do that part of the journey with P. The journey to our son. I can't wait to embark on the parenting adventure with him. I'm really, really afraid, of course. The unknown is always scary. But that fear is also exciting and refreshing. I almost embrace it.
I look behind and I still have to pinch myself. Me, 20 weeks pregnant? Me?? I can't believe it! We say it all the time, but man does time fly! It seems like yesterday I was so happy to have crossed the 10 weeks mark. It seems like only yesterday I was waiting for that second line to appear and make my dream come true. And poof! here I am, 20 weeks pregnant, with a belly and a little boy kicking inside and letting me feel all the life and love he represents.
Halfway between conception and labor. Halfway between egg and child. Halfway between happiness and even more happiness. Halfway between infertility and motherhood.
Empty eyes
Last Saturday, we helped friends move out. Well, P helped move the furniture, I washed the dishes. For 3 hours straight. Alone.
The friend we helped, Patricia, I have know since I was 7. We were not really friends back then. We were in the same ballet class, but did not really speak to each other. It's only in High school that we became friends. We were at the same bus stop every morning so we started talking, not that much at first, but slowly more and more and we finally became real good friends. I spent a lot of time at her parents' apparment. Every time I needed to breathe, away from my family, to smoke a cigarette without fearing my parents finding out, or simply to talk, I went to see her. And I thought her parents were really cool to let me come and vent at their place.
Her father has always had a fragile health. Liver problems and diabetes run in their family. For years now, she's been telling me "my dad has this and that... I don't think he has much longer to live..." But knowing her sense of drama, I always knew what to take seriously or not. After all, she's been saying he's going to die soon for years and he's still alive. Well, last week, she told me he has liver cancer and it's too late to do anything. I believed her. I immediately felt sad for him and for Patricia and her mom. Knowing people who suffered from liver cancer, I know how fast it can go. He is about my father's age (my dad's 56). That's such a young age to be dying. I cannot bare the thought of losing my dad so soon.
So Saturday, when P and I went to her parents' home to help her move, I saw his father, whom I hadn't seen for a long time. He was so frail, so pale and weak, it broke my heart. He seemed happy to see us and to be able to congratulate us for the baby. But his eyes were empty, his cheeks stretched and his mind seemed miles away. I could feel his deep sadness, his despair and hopelessness. We all felt so useless facing his tragedy. I did not know what to tell him, I did not know how to act. He is about to die. He knows it and it shows. And the feeling that there's absolutely nothing to do is unbearable.
I sat with him on the balcony while others where moving the refrigirator. I felt uneasy, didn't know what to say to a dying man. I made some jokes, small talk, but he did not smile. He just sat there, looking at the sky, looking at the beads falling one by one in his hourglass. There are amost no beads left and there's nothing anyone can do to stop them from falling. It's so frustrating for me, for us, I cannot even imagine what it must be like for him. How can you sit and watch you life slip from your hands and cannot prevent it? How can you go on, for what time you have left, without curling up in a ball and being angry at the universe?
I often asked myself how I would react if I knew I was about to die. But I don't want to know. Meeting the eyes of Patricia's father made me realise I had better things to think about right now. He made me understand how we need to live our life to the fullest. We say it often because it's nice to say, but we never really do it. All the tragic events of the last weeks, all the human drama and pain caused by Katrina, on top of seing this man slowly dying made me really think and grasp how lucky I am to be alive. Not only to be alive, but to be carrying life in my womb. I am so grateful for everything I have. I don't want to reach that time in my life and say "I sould have..." His eyes were telling me "it's too late for me, but not for you!"
Life often sucks. It's often unfair and painful. Life is not always beautiful. But we only have one life to live. Let's live it now.
Wow I feel dumb
I have just realised I only put 5 things in the 7 things post... Yep... I can't count! I think I need more sleep...
7 things
Callista wanted me to do this. With pleasure! I'm a geek remember? I love quizzes!
7 things I plan to do before I die:
1. Travel, anywhere, everywhere!
2. Become a grandma (big picture!)
3. Write a novel
4. Spend a whole summer on the beach
5. Learn how to play piano
7 things I can do:
1. Origami (I took classes when I was a kid!)
2. Cross-stitching, drawing and painting
3. Sing any Queen song by heart4. Good soup with whatever's in the fridge
5. Talk to 5 friends at the same time on MSN without mixing up the conversations
7 things I cannot do:
1. Anything regarding music (sing on tune or play any instrument)
2. Eat or cook meat
3. Mow the lawn
4. Tell a joke without screwing up the punch line
5. Take good pictures of P
7 things that attract me to the opposite sex:
1. Broad shoulders
2. Strong built, but not too much
3. Eyes
4. Smile
5. Hands
7 things I say most often:
(these are usually said in French...)
1. I love you (to P.)
2. I love you and stick with me (to Pépin)
3. Are you serious?
4. Yes of course this will be done by tomorrow! (Not!) (to clients)
5. One minute! I have one message (or email or blog) left to read! (to P. when he's asking me when will I turn off the computer)
7 celebrity crushes:
1. Orlando Bloom
2. Matt Damon
3. Johnny Depp
4. Viggo Mortensen (but only as Aragorn)
5. Orlando Bloom
7 people I want to do this:
1. Tigger
2. Sheryl
3. Dooney
4. PJ
5. Orlando Bloom
