The ups and downs...

Last night was an up

I was invited to have dinner with dear friends and their kids. They were having over a lovely couple and son. I was there during the build up of excitement of company arriving. The kids were eagerly waiting by the window. The mom was fruitlessly encouraging them to pick up their toys. The dad was baking some yummy smelling bread.

The other family arrived. My husband too a bit later when he finished work for the day. The food was wonderful. The kids were funny and honest about their opinions about the food. They tried to sneak inappropriate jokes into the table conversation. The adults collectively groaned. The kids eventually were allowed to be excused, and the adults chatted for hours over drinks, then tea, then whiskey. The kids fell asleep in a pile of blankets and pillows in the living room.

I was so happy. There is an energy about multigenerational gatherings like this that I love. I crave and savor these moments. My entire life was full of them, my mom was a master of creating holidays and gatherings. Then I left home at 18 to venture off to university. I am only now building a community of friends with kids and friends who still live near their parents.

I realized that one thing I was grieving was not having these gatherings in my life if I never get to be a parent. It was a relief to know that I was still part of the fabric of life last night. My shitty ovaries don't have to bare me from these moments.

Flash forward to today...

Today sucks...

I woke up and was just wanted to curl up and cry. So many stressful things on my to do list. Taxes in 2 countries. Donor recipient profile to finish up. Letters to doctors to write. Housecleaning. Learning that my mother must have received the email that she didn't reply to because my accountant back home (a family friend) referred to it. I need to call my mom about some tax stuff, but really I just want her to mother me through the afternoon, even though I suspect she can't.

Its a day of sad music. Wine with breakfast. Lots and lots of hot sauce on that breakfast. A very very empty house. Phone calls reaching out to friends... all of whom I ended up not being able to say anything to.

Thurdsay, Friday, Saturday... the days of the week go round and round all month long

I finally did it, I popped open the pack of birth control and took my first bite of sugar coated hormones. And really I feel exactly the same as I did the day before I started taking them.

I still am occasionally bicckering with my lovely husband who can't seem to do anything around the house at the moment with his crazy hours thanks to a huge project deadline at work (note to others.. if you ever want to pick a fight with me, wait silently practicing the line 'i can't' in your head until I arrive home after a horrid day at work, after I scrap myself off the floor and go grocery shopping, and make dinner, and start cleaning up, and then wait until I ask a 2 minute task of you, and lay your line on me... for good measure continue to repeat the phrase 'i can't' when I ask you for a neck rub, to bring your plate to the sink, and to tell me about your day. )

Well a few things are different than I remember from taking the pill years ago:

• I am experiencing some lovely stomach cramps -- fun!
• Its much easier to remember to take the pills at the same time everyday now that I'm not a college student - whohooo, I must be developing a touch of responsibility!
• Sex while taking them is not a huge relief, instead it brought on sobs. I felt completely empty and barren inside and was really shocked by the intensity of this reaction, which of course only amplified it. Wasn't exactly what my husband was looking for either I suspect:)

Perhaps this 3 months will buy me some quality time to come to terms with my thoughts and feelings on my premature ovarian failure. I think I have a long ways to go. I never promised I'd handle this gracefully (though I think had lots of internal hopes for myself).

Relaxing...

Today I relaxed... with a deadline. I only had one last afternoon alone at my friend's house.  She kindly lent me a key while she was on an exciting vacation with her family.

I drink tea
Knitted another 10 rows on my first sweater/jumper
And listened to some NPR online.

Ah.. I always like a good Teri Gross interview.  My favourite of all times was seeing her live interviewing Ira Glass from This American Life.  But her interview with Peggy Orenstein went well with my tea and knitting today.

So now a period means time to start birth control... never before were those things linked in my mind

My period has arrived. Well I think it has. Several days of spotting and the sense that Niagara Falls is imminent. I no longer know what to think about my body. Is it a 'real' period? Is it just some break through bleeding? Estrogen withdrawal? Do I bother continuing with my very abreviated form of charting- and really what do I write for the things I am observing?

What does it matter other than I really would love to be able to understand what is happening in my body? And be clued in enough to sieze an ovulatory moment should one appear.

It does very much mean I need to decide whether to start with birth control pills. I was directed to start within a week of getting my period. I've had 2 doctors say that its worth a shot. 3 months on the pill then withdrawal from it to see if the sudden change in hormones convince my ovaries to get busy. Long shot of long shots.

I guess the BCP suppress the FSH and ovaries and gives everyone a vacation - 'cept me who would need to buy them and remember to taking them (not really a challenge, I just have always hated how I feel on the pill).

I've been thinking of FSH as a person trying to get their spouse to tell them where they are. They call out, 'hey where are you?” no answer. So they say it louder. They text them. They start banging pans. Eventually they start screaming and stomping and having a complete meltdown – because well FSH is only so sophisticated, and it just ratchets things up and up and up. Eventually the message gets through...they hear the response they want... and then they stop till the next time.

But if I were my eggs, I'd totally refuse to respond to that level of meltdown and craziness. I'd hold out of a calmer, less frantic summoning. I mean really would you respond that level of demanding tantrumming?

But then again, if none of my eggs are responding to my FSH levels at 50, doesn't that mean all the others are just too damaged, old, or slow to even notice lower levels of FSH? Just as when you start losing you hearing, it doesn't matter how hard you try or how nice that little beep is presented, until it is loud enough you can't physically hear it - that is that.

Yeah, guess I should stop fretting about the BCP decision and focus on finishing up the donor recipient profile. Which means getting off our computers, getting out, and getting a current photo of us together looking happy and fun during some shared activity. Cuz yeah we actually are fun and happy when I'm not off on my own fretting about WHAT TO DO about THINGS outside my control.

the lady

I was at a luncheon recently. And as one might expect there was heaps of lovely food laid out and great coffee and of course there was also a lady -- one with opinions, lots of them. I am too am opinanated - so I try not to judge this trait in others. Sometimes I postively relish listening to others pontificate their views --- and sometimes I, well, don't.

The Lady O'Opinions is of an age where I secretly think 'hey, we're both menopausal, but I'm the only one that knows it.' Yes I know... its a weird game I play in my head. I think its a bit like when you are a young child who has just realized that all these grown ups in your life have sex, probably - shock of all shocks- repeatedly and therefore must enjoy it, and you torture yourself for awhile trying to make it true in your head. Or was that just me...

Well one of this lady's opinions was that expecting parents really ought never to learn the sex of one's babies before the birth. That it completely takes the surprise out of it... something about that what everyone is dying to know is whether its a boy or a girl.. that there really isn't any news quite like that.

What I thought was what I want to know is are breathing and healthy! Do they have a cleft palate? Was there any internal bleeding? Heart defects? Motor issues? Hearing loss? (okay this is because of my clinical training that these things all pop in my head--sorry folks out there that already have too many things on their worry list – I used to only worry about the things that can go wrong once a baby is born, and was fairly unaware of the things that can go wrong before. Ah now I can worry from all angles!). I would probably would opt to not know, but not because I want to maintain the element of suprise for the world at large!

And then I thought, and nearly blurted out, if I actually get pregnant, the delivery is when I will get to know what colour my baby is.... cuz last I checked ultrasounds show morphology not colour.

... this is probably related to the fact that I haven't yet decided on how to answer the question on the donor recepient profile: "please circle all of the following that are acceptable for you in a donor" and then lists of skin, hair, and eye colour; height options, options for build... it is that not the most bizarre multiple choice ever! Talk about a test you can't study for....

Yeah, probably good that I bit my tongue on that one. I guess I could spin it either way --- the sadness of not having a child who is genetically tied to me and all my family before me OR that I would get to look at that oh-so-theoretical baby with completely fresh eyes. I mean forget the surprise of what sex the baby is.--that's nearly a 50:50 (yeah my work has taught me about the sliver between those two 50's too, but let's ignore that for now)--if we go with donor eggs, we might not have any idea about what our baby's skin, nose, or eyes will look like.

That could be a turly amazing gift.

I wouldn't be looking for glimmers of me in his or her face, I would just be completely open to seeing the humanity passed down from generations of people not related (and quite possibilty a few from way back that are) to me into this one very new person.

Hmmm... I wonder what that would be like. To watch a child grow up and getting to see them
without any preconcieved notions of what they will look like..... no back cover, book jacket flap, reviews, blurbs --- nothing but a human life unfolding one day at a time. Just letting their physical appearance evolve as a surprise. Just as we often do with personality, interests, vocabulary, and all the other ways children suprise us by showing who they really are (and how different that can be from our expectations - even when we think we have none).

Hmmmm....

When feeling low.... seek words

In spite of the much appreciated relief at tossing the HRT last week and the lovely weekend of real fun, this week has been a mini-hell for me. I say mini, because I realize it is nothing compared to all the losses and battles and struggles of others, but I think I positively reeked of depression all week.

This made for really crappy interactions with friends, family, and my poor poor workmates. Oh have I mentioned that when I'm in a foul mood I develop a scowl that only true friends properly read as “oh that is just what her face DOES when she is fighting back tears or is super preoccupied with the mental battle of how do you expect me to care about trivial things about when I feel like shit about big things!” I don't want to be grumpy at work, but my motivation level has been ... well subpar these past few days.

A friend asked if I was eating or sleeping well. She has a pysch background. I have enough of one to know why she was asking. I replied that I eat when food is put in front of me. This has worked out nicely for me -- she has slipped some amazing dishes under my nose this week. I ate and she listened to my silence and she will be a friend of mine forever and ever. I will thank her later when I start talking and being social again.

I am a lump right now. My husband is working insane hours. I hurt one of my legs so I can't really walk or do sports or get out. I am craving exercise and sweating and the mind clearing power of feelign one foot fall against the ground then another and another and another....

Its a 4 day weekend and all my friends are off having adventures with their young, carefree friends or they are off to the hills/beaches/rivers/lakes/relatives with their young kids. I am watching my husband frantically work on a deadline on his computer.

And so logically I tried to imitate his behavior. But all I can do is frantically click through blogs and other corners of the Internet. Probably not as impressive as his work, but I did find some really great things today.

I stumbled upon “why not me” and her post about coming to decide to go with egg donors. Not only was it a great post, but the comments sections was a treasure trove of others who having gone done the donor egg path (or like me are thinking about it)

Which lead me to this post writen by Julia at A little bit Pregnant

I also started recognizing other people's voices as I read through the comments... little thoughts of 'hmm she really sounds like ___, oh wait it is!”

And that made me feel a lot less alone in my lump like state.

Ah, the relief of action

I pulled myself together long enough to finally do something.

I started with the basics - laundry, shopping, feeding myself, and a nice long shower (not necessarily in that order)

Then I decided yesterday that I am not going to start my HRT.

I am a person who likes to hear advice, so long as it is said in a way that I can clearly do what ever I want. I actually prefer it to the vague 'listen to your heart only you know what's best for you' Well duh --- but I much prefer someone saying, what about x, and me reacting to it, rather than always having to come up with x by myself. Sometimes I do not realize how strongly I feel for or against something until its suggested by someone else.

On that note, I have one friend who is not afraid to share her opinions. She also does this in a way that is easy to dismiss or embrace as I see fit. Yesterday she sent me a txt asking how I was doing, and somehow after a few txts back and forth she said that she didn't think I should take the drugs unless there was a postive reason to do so and that I could always change my mind later this year.

I instantly realized that I felt exactly the same. That like her I'd prefer to err on the side of more dr opinions and fewer interventions... that I'm lucky that I have enough bone density to risk losing a bit while I have a good long think. Hearing someone give me permission to do what I wanted to, not by saying 'do what you think is best' but saying 'if I were you I'd think about doing x' and that happened to be what I was wanting to do.

And this wonderful relief washed over me. I felt so good that today I was able to calmly pick up the phone and inquire about adoption. I also wrote the donor egg nurse about whether my 39 year old friend is eligible to donate.

I feel like a three year old who's just done some big thing for the first time and want to jump up, hands in the air, and shout 'I did it I did it'

What exactly I did I don't know, but I feel strong and calm again with my connection to my heart and body semi-restored. And to celebrate, I threw some of music on my side bar... just hit pause if it annoys you.