I had the chance to babysit my nieces this weekend. Baby A. has grown up so much, it just boggles the mind. She will be four soon -- FOUR!!!! How is that even possible?!?
Baby C. is a chubby, sweet, gurgling bundle of joy who already, at 9 weeks old, looks so much bigger than she did just two months ago.
(Side note -- I also have a nephew, Baby B., which gives me this perverse desire to name my child, should they ever arrive, something beginning with a D. Weird, no?)
Mo and I tag-teamed this time, since Baby C. is still in that "please don't ever put me down" phase. We traded off holding the infant with playing with her big sister. We fed them both. He showed A. how to peel a crawfish, and sang C. to sleep.
And at the end of the night, as I rocked Baby C. in the darkened nursery and listened to Mo and A. giggle in the living room, I thought, We would be so good at this.
Because, you know, I wonder sometimes.
Even though my rational brain knows otherwise, I find myself doubting that on occasion. You know, those times when I forget to feed the dogs until late afternoon, or when I come home tired and grumpy and incredibly happy that I don't have to tend to anyone's needs but my own.
It's then that I think, Maybe I would be a terrible mother. And maybe, somehow, the universe knows this. And maybe that's why I can't have babies.
I begin the litany of list-making, my brain rattling off the myriad mistakes I have made in the past. I was rotten to my little sister when we were children (I even locked her outside once. In January. In the snow). I have snapped at kids at school, on numerous occasions over the years. I have said mean things to my spouse, things I didn't mean and things I did, and things I can never, ever take back. I am stubborn. I am impatient. I am grouchy when I am tired, and Lord help you if my blood sugar drops too low.
Sometimes, when I let my emotions get the better of me, I think that these things are the root cause of my infertility.
But, I know better. My feelings are real, but they don't reflect reality.
In reality, I would be an excellent mother.
In reality, I would make mistakes, we all do. But I would love my children with a fiery passion. I would put them first, every single day. Tired or not, we would read books every evening. I would cook them their favorite foods. I would say "no" when I had to, but I would try as often as I could to say "yes." I would ask questions, and really listen to their responses. We would explore. I would smother them with hugs and kisses and never let them doubt for a single second how very, very much they were wanted.
I have to remind myself of these facts every so often.
I am NOT being punished for some childhood transgression or some imaginary sin.
I am NOT being tested, and found lacking, by some omniscient being whose standards of conduct are impossible to achieve.
I married a man who produces wonky sperm.
That's it.
And I am incredibly grateful for the scientific advances that give us lots of options for how we deal with that.
Because, in the end, I would be a wonderful mother.
I only hope that, someday, I get the chance to prove that, if only to myself.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Double-Stuffed
Infertility and its cousins, Lack of Exercise and Emotional Eating, have all been very helpful over the last few years in packing on the pounds. I have gained about ten pounds each cycle, or 40 pounds in all. I have had a devil of a time taking it off, despite yo-yo dieting and basically making myself miserable with deprivation followed by the inevitable binge.
In the last year or so, I have been trying hard to become more comfortable in my (softer?) skin. I have given up dieting and instead eat what I please. I do try to keep my portions sensible, and I have found that in so doing, my cravings for sweets and other "forbidden" foods has dramatically decreased. I've not lost any weight, but I am striving to learn to love my body, or at least accept it, for the many things it DOES do for me. I have spent a decade hating it for what it won't do, and I have had enough. I have embraced fashion and am learning how to dress my current shape so that I feel (and look) my best, rather than wearing ill-fitting and unattractive clothing.
I tell you all of that so that you have sufficient background to appreciate the little exchange between Mo and I last night. I had purchased a bag of Oreos at the store this weekend on impulse. Over the course of the weekend, I ate several. (Ok, a whole row). Mo and I pulled them out while making dinner last night, and as we nibbled I said, "You know, I'm probably the only person on the planet who doesn't like regular Oreos. I sure do like the double-stuffed ones, though." "Mmmmmm, me, too," he mumbled.
After a beat, I said, "After all, why would you pick a skinny, flat, Oreo when you could have all that extra filling?" as I did a little ( or, not so little)) booty-shake.
Mo grinned. "Oh, definitely," he replied. "I'd choose double-stuffed every time." He grabbed my butt and we both died laughing.
It's a small thing, but the shift from derogatory comments about my body to embracing its curves has been a several-years-long work in progress. I teach 10-12 year old girls, many of whom are already indoctrinated into our societal stereotypes and already engage in fat-talk. I have become very aware of women's tendencies to downplay our figures and to speak badly about our bodies. As an infertile, I think it becomes magnified as we (quite normally) focus on what is wrong versus what is right with our bodies.
I am trying to change that. I am trying to see my body as the faithful friend it has been, allowing me the freedoms to walk, run, play, teach, shop, and even roll around in the sheets with my husband every once in a while. My ample curves give my nieces and my dogs soft places to rest their heads. My arms embrace my husband, my mom, and my students and let them know how much they are loved. My legs carry me to all kinds of places, allowing me to explore beaches and mountains with ease.
The thing is, my body is amazing. And so is yours. You might be a "plain" Oreo -- and that's okay. I am double-stuffed -- and that's okay, too. In fact, not only is it okay, but I can actually say in all seriousness, that I am beautiful this way. As my husband told me before we went to sleep last night -- Oreos are delicious, no matter what shape or size they come in.
So, today, I hope you have that cookie (or cupcake, or whatever you fancy), and know -- really know-- that its okay. You are beautiful, extra filling and all.
In the last year or so, I have been trying hard to become more comfortable in my (softer?) skin. I have given up dieting and instead eat what I please. I do try to keep my portions sensible, and I have found that in so doing, my cravings for sweets and other "forbidden" foods has dramatically decreased. I've not lost any weight, but I am striving to learn to love my body, or at least accept it, for the many things it DOES do for me. I have spent a decade hating it for what it won't do, and I have had enough. I have embraced fashion and am learning how to dress my current shape so that I feel (and look) my best, rather than wearing ill-fitting and unattractive clothing.
I tell you all of that so that you have sufficient background to appreciate the little exchange between Mo and I last night. I had purchased a bag of Oreos at the store this weekend on impulse. Over the course of the weekend, I ate several. (Ok, a whole row). Mo and I pulled them out while making dinner last night, and as we nibbled I said, "You know, I'm probably the only person on the planet who doesn't like regular Oreos. I sure do like the double-stuffed ones, though." "Mmmmmm, me, too," he mumbled.
After a beat, I said, "After all, why would you pick a skinny, flat, Oreo when you could have all that extra filling?" as I did a little ( or, not so little)) booty-shake.
Mo grinned. "Oh, definitely," he replied. "I'd choose double-stuffed every time." He grabbed my butt and we both died laughing.
It's a small thing, but the shift from derogatory comments about my body to embracing its curves has been a several-years-long work in progress. I teach 10-12 year old girls, many of whom are already indoctrinated into our societal stereotypes and already engage in fat-talk. I have become very aware of women's tendencies to downplay our figures and to speak badly about our bodies. As an infertile, I think it becomes magnified as we (quite normally) focus on what is wrong versus what is right with our bodies.
I am trying to change that. I am trying to see my body as the faithful friend it has been, allowing me the freedoms to walk, run, play, teach, shop, and even roll around in the sheets with my husband every once in a while. My ample curves give my nieces and my dogs soft places to rest their heads. My arms embrace my husband, my mom, and my students and let them know how much they are loved. My legs carry me to all kinds of places, allowing me to explore beaches and mountains with ease.
The thing is, my body is amazing. And so is yours. You might be a "plain" Oreo -- and that's okay. I am double-stuffed -- and that's okay, too. In fact, not only is it okay, but I can actually say in all seriousness, that I am beautiful this way. As my husband told me before we went to sleep last night -- Oreos are delicious, no matter what shape or size they come in.
So, today, I hope you have that cookie (or cupcake, or whatever you fancy), and know -- really know-- that its okay. You are beautiful, extra filling and all.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Becoming An Atheist: An Introduction to "Losing" My Faith
First off, let me say thank you! Thank you for your thoughtful responses to my last post, and thank you for staying civil and polite even when you disagreed with me. That's not as common as you might think -- just read the comment section of any political or religious or even mainstream infertility news article (the ALI blogosphere excluded, of course).
Most of the thoughts swirling in my brain these days have to do with religion. I was once a Christian, but have, over the past several years, slowly evolved into an atheist. There wasn't a single moment in time where I "lost" my faith -- it just happened, and over time I became more and more comfortable saying "This is what I believe." Or, rather, this is what I do NOT believe.
Atheism is, in our American culture, still a bad word. The majority of Americans identify as religious, though growth of the "nones" is growing (interestingly enough, mostly in my demographic).
Atheists are frequently demonized in our society, painted as uncaring, unfeeling, immoral, and worse.
When I began having doubts about God, I turned to the same source that provided comfort when I realized we were infertile: the good 'ol internets. And I found, once again, that I am not alone. That, just like with infertiles, atheists come in all shapes and sizes, from a myriad of backgrounds.
Since treatments and infertility have taken a backseat for the foreseeable future, I figured that if I was going to reclaim my blogging mojo (haha!), I should write about what's on my mind. And atheism is a good chunk of that. So, perhaps once a week, perhaps more, I will write up the bits and pieces of my life that have to do with moving away from faith, and becoming comfortable identifying as an atheist.
I hope that in writing this series I can find a way to put into words the thousands of complex emotions that I have had on this journey. I hope that it will help me learn how to explain what I think and why. And I also hope that maybe it will provide some comfort to someone else who is struggling the way that I did.
Infertility bloggers and blogging saved my sanity over the past several years. While that is still far from resolved, there are other things that have been granted more "head space" in the past year or so. And so I am setting out to prove what hundreds of others do every single day: that you can be good without god.
I hope you will join me, and I look forward to hearing your responses and thoughts on these matters as well.
Disclaimer: The views I post here are strictly my own, and I welcome CIVIL discourse, sincere questions, and respectful disagreements. I will NOT tolerate hate speech of any kind, so please moderate your comments, so that I don't have to. :-)
Most of the thoughts swirling in my brain these days have to do with religion. I was once a Christian, but have, over the past several years, slowly evolved into an atheist. There wasn't a single moment in time where I "lost" my faith -- it just happened, and over time I became more and more comfortable saying "This is what I believe." Or, rather, this is what I do NOT believe.
Atheism is, in our American culture, still a bad word. The majority of Americans identify as religious, though growth of the "nones" is growing (interestingly enough, mostly in my demographic).
Atheists are frequently demonized in our society, painted as uncaring, unfeeling, immoral, and worse.
When I began having doubts about God, I turned to the same source that provided comfort when I realized we were infertile: the good 'ol internets. And I found, once again, that I am not alone. That, just like with infertiles, atheists come in all shapes and sizes, from a myriad of backgrounds.
Since treatments and infertility have taken a backseat for the foreseeable future, I figured that if I was going to reclaim my blogging mojo (haha!), I should write about what's on my mind. And atheism is a good chunk of that. So, perhaps once a week, perhaps more, I will write up the bits and pieces of my life that have to do with moving away from faith, and becoming comfortable identifying as an atheist.
I hope that in writing this series I can find a way to put into words the thousands of complex emotions that I have had on this journey. I hope that it will help me learn how to explain what I think and why. And I also hope that maybe it will provide some comfort to someone else who is struggling the way that I did.
Infertility bloggers and blogging saved my sanity over the past several years. While that is still far from resolved, there are other things that have been granted more "head space" in the past year or so. And so I am setting out to prove what hundreds of others do every single day: that you can be good without god.
I hope you will join me, and I look forward to hearing your responses and thoughts on these matters as well.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
God: Like Santa Claus, But With Babies
I am an atheist.
I am also infertile.
My atheism did not cause my infertility -- in fact, throughout most of the last decade, I was a conservative (though not evangelical) Christian. I prayed daily, went to church regularly, read my bible every morning. I was never "rebellious," or looking for a way "out" of church. I was, and always have been, a "good" girl. Hell, I married the second guy I ever slept with (and was, briefly, engaged to the first). I don't smoke, drink rarely, don't do drugs. I was (and still am) extremely boring. I love kids, and I work with some of the most challenging every day.
And yet, when people hear I am infertile, the first thing they say is that they will pray for me. And that everything happens according to God's plan.
When I tell them I am not religious, they give me the look. The "Aha. I understand" look. As though, somehow, my lack of children is directly tied to my lack of faith. As though if I somehow prayed harder, or believed more, or trusted in "his timing," I would have the babies I so desperately desire.
And yet, can anyone seriously look around at our society today and tell me that God has been handing out babies only to his faithful? He isn't fucking Santa Claus. You don't get a baby because you are good, because you say the right things, or because you pray fervently. If any of that worked, I (and many of you) wouldn't be here, railing at the universe for our lack of fertility.
Even before I abandoned any notion of a higher power, I became convinced that God had nothing to do with babies. Who got them had little to do with who wanted them, and even less to do with who "deserved" them. And yet, it is impossible to miss the snide undertones of my fertile Christian friends and colleagues who seem to think that they are somehow superior because of their belief in God. And of course, their children are proof positive of this. They wanted babies, they prayed, and they got them. Even if a few struggled along the way, their faith and trust in God got them through -- and had I just been more patient, more faithful, I would have, too.
I hate them for that.
And yet, at the same time, I envy them their solid convictions, their ability to trust in the universe and some "plan" for their lives.
I know, more than anyone else ever could, that faith was never my problem. I know that I believed more fervently than most for a very, very, long time. I prayed with every fiber of my being -- not just for a baby, but for the health of my husband and of my marriage.
And, eventually, for the life of my unborn babies. Once. Twice. Three times.
Those prayers were never answered.
I have, over time, and after a great deal of thought and research, come to the conclusion that the chances of there being anyone out there "directing traffic" so to speak are very, very slim. It is impossible to prove a negative, so I will never say for sure that God doesn't exist (it's just very, very, unlikely.)
But I DO know this: I am an atheist, and I am infertile. And one of those things has nothing to do with the other.
I am also infertile.
My atheism did not cause my infertility -- in fact, throughout most of the last decade, I was a conservative (though not evangelical) Christian. I prayed daily, went to church regularly, read my bible every morning. I was never "rebellious," or looking for a way "out" of church. I was, and always have been, a "good" girl. Hell, I married the second guy I ever slept with (and was, briefly, engaged to the first). I don't smoke, drink rarely, don't do drugs. I was (and still am) extremely boring. I love kids, and I work with some of the most challenging every day.
And yet, when people hear I am infertile, the first thing they say is that they will pray for me. And that everything happens according to God's plan.
When I tell them I am not religious, they give me the look. The "Aha. I understand" look. As though, somehow, my lack of children is directly tied to my lack of faith. As though if I somehow prayed harder, or believed more, or trusted in "his timing," I would have the babies I so desperately desire.
And yet, can anyone seriously look around at our society today and tell me that God has been handing out babies only to his faithful? He isn't fucking Santa Claus. You don't get a baby because you are good, because you say the right things, or because you pray fervently. If any of that worked, I (and many of you) wouldn't be here, railing at the universe for our lack of fertility.
Even before I abandoned any notion of a higher power, I became convinced that God had nothing to do with babies. Who got them had little to do with who wanted them, and even less to do with who "deserved" them. And yet, it is impossible to miss the snide undertones of my fertile Christian friends and colleagues who seem to think that they are somehow superior because of their belief in God. And of course, their children are proof positive of this. They wanted babies, they prayed, and they got them. Even if a few struggled along the way, their faith and trust in God got them through -- and had I just been more patient, more faithful, I would have, too.
I hate them for that.
And yet, at the same time, I envy them their solid convictions, their ability to trust in the universe and some "plan" for their lives.
I know, more than anyone else ever could, that faith was never my problem. I know that I believed more fervently than most for a very, very, long time. I prayed with every fiber of my being -- not just for a baby, but for the health of my husband and of my marriage.
And, eventually, for the life of my unborn babies. Once. Twice. Three times.
Those prayers were never answered.
I have, over time, and after a great deal of thought and research, come to the conclusion that the chances of there being anyone out there "directing traffic" so to speak are very, very slim. It is impossible to prove a negative, so I will never say for sure that God doesn't exist (it's just very, very, unlikely.)
But I DO know this: I am an atheist, and I am infertile. And one of those things has nothing to do with the other.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Eleven and Three
Two numbers that have been rattling in my brain, impossible to believe, but true. Eleven years since we tossed the birth control, three years since my earth-shattering first post-IVF loss. And still, no babies to show for it. How is that even possible? How am I still in this race? How have I not given up already?
I don't really know, other than I just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Isn't that how everyone deals with those life-altering blows that we are dealt? You just keep getting up, you keep breathing. In my case, I keep having sex (FUN!) and keep letting everyone under the sun stick instruments up my hoo-ha (not nearly as much fun as it sounds).
We really don't have anything new to report, hence my blog absence of late. Christmas was both wonderful and awful, as I am sure so many of you can relate. My family is amazing, and we got to spend lots of time together, time that I cherish and feel so lucky to have. I can't help but appreciate my parents and siblings so much more, seeing Mo without his each year. Each Christmas my wish for the next year remains the same, though realistically I know I won't be holding a baby of my own in December 2013, either. Maybe by 2014?
I miss blogging, and writing, and the connections I've made here. At the same time, there is only so much of this community that I can handle right now. (God, that sounds horrible and selfish and I am sorry.) It's true, though, and out of self-preservation I steer clear of all but a few select places these days. I want to be better, but let's face it -- I'm not. After over a decade of infertility, I'm ready for it to be my fucking turn already. I love you all, really I do, but I am no saint. And if you get that, then you are a better person than I was when I was in your shoes, and I am lucky to have you. If that pisses you off or offends you in some way, then I invite you to trade places with me any day. What? No takers? :-)
I may or may not be blogging about other things here for a while, seeing as how there will be no treatments to obsess over until May/June. I am in cyber-love with Misfit (http://justbeinginfertile.blogspot.com)*, have thoroughly enjoyed reading about her house renovations lately. While I am not nearly as handy, nor do I own a home to refinish, I do enjoy seeing other sides of my infertile buddies (What? We are more than just our broken lady-parts?), and think sometimes that you might like to see the other sides of me as well. Then again, my other sides may be horribly offensive to some of you, or so the little corner of my brain insists, and so I hold off, wanting to keep the few of you I haven't run off previously. And so I keep quiet, reinforcing the belief that I am little more than a baby-hungry, stubborn, doesn't-know-when-to-quit, bag of broken lady-bits.
I am more, though, or so I like to think.
So, you tell me. If you have hung around this long, what do you want to know about me? Comment and give me some good, non-IF blog fodder. Please and thank you. (See, I haven't completely forgotten my good manners!)
*Can anyone tell my how to create a link on the Blogger iPad app? I am technology literate most of the time, but this one has me stumped.
I don't really know, other than I just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Isn't that how everyone deals with those life-altering blows that we are dealt? You just keep getting up, you keep breathing. In my case, I keep having sex (FUN!) and keep letting everyone under the sun stick instruments up my hoo-ha (not nearly as much fun as it sounds).
We really don't have anything new to report, hence my blog absence of late. Christmas was both wonderful and awful, as I am sure so many of you can relate. My family is amazing, and we got to spend lots of time together, time that I cherish and feel so lucky to have. I can't help but appreciate my parents and siblings so much more, seeing Mo without his each year. Each Christmas my wish for the next year remains the same, though realistically I know I won't be holding a baby of my own in December 2013, either. Maybe by 2014?
I miss blogging, and writing, and the connections I've made here. At the same time, there is only so much of this community that I can handle right now. (God, that sounds horrible and selfish and I am sorry.) It's true, though, and out of self-preservation I steer clear of all but a few select places these days. I want to be better, but let's face it -- I'm not. After over a decade of infertility, I'm ready for it to be my fucking turn already. I love you all, really I do, but I am no saint. And if you get that, then you are a better person than I was when I was in your shoes, and I am lucky to have you. If that pisses you off or offends you in some way, then I invite you to trade places with me any day. What? No takers? :-)
I may or may not be blogging about other things here for a while, seeing as how there will be no treatments to obsess over until May/June. I am in cyber-love with Misfit (http://justbeinginfertile.blogspot.com)*, have thoroughly enjoyed reading about her house renovations lately. While I am not nearly as handy, nor do I own a home to refinish, I do enjoy seeing other sides of my infertile buddies (What? We are more than just our broken lady-parts?), and think sometimes that you might like to see the other sides of me as well. Then again, my other sides may be horribly offensive to some of you, or so the little corner of my brain insists, and so I hold off, wanting to keep the few of you I haven't run off previously. And so I keep quiet, reinforcing the belief that I am little more than a baby-hungry, stubborn, doesn't-know-when-to-quit, bag of broken lady-bits.
I am more, though, or so I like to think.
So, you tell me. If you have hung around this long, what do you want to know about me? Comment and give me some good, non-IF blog fodder. Please and thank you. (See, I haven't completely forgotten my good manners!)
*Can anyone tell my how to create a link on the Blogger iPad app? I am technology literate most of the time, but this one has me stumped.
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