We just returned from a quick trip to Chicago for Phil to do a wedding for a lovely couple. I attended the rehearsal, dinner, wedding, and reception. It was one of the loveliest events I have ever attended and the outdoor settings in Chicago were amazing. I can only imagine what wonderful pictures they are going to have. Just as the trip to Alaska taught me a few things, this trip also brought new epiphanies. So, here are a few of my lessons from Chicago:
1) If you are in a different locale where one of you has to be somewhere at a certain time, don't do anything stupid that might require a trip to the ER. This leads me to #2.
2) Always use a high chair. No matter how good your 18-month-old is at sitting in a chair, she will inevitably fall out. This is not necessarily a horrible thing, but if she falls off and hits her head on a radiator sitting roughly 3 inches off the floor, it's a problem. (When the people at the next table who work in sports medicine say you might want to get your kid checked out for a concussion, it's probably not a good sign).
3) When you need a trip to the ER in a strange city, make certain the cabbie knows that the children's hospital has moved. There's nothing like an hour long cab ride through the city, as the cabbie discovers the road to the children's hospital is closed and, upon finally arriving, being told that they are CLOSING FOR GOOD that day (indeed, within the hour) because they have moved to a new location. [Ironically, the new location was CLOSER to the hotel! But, I digress.] Fortunately, they were kind enough to admit us and we were likely their last patient. First, and hopefully last, time closing down an ER.
4) Lil' Bit has a hard head--just like me. As hard as she cracked that thing on the radiator and floor, she must have a skull of steel. She did not have a concussion and we all got back to the hotel in plenty of time to get ready for the wedding. Yay! Still, not something we ever want to repeat.
5) Given the right setting, I can be social with people I don't know. Usually, I am an extreme introvert with those I don't know, and an extrovert with those I know well. With these families, I felt instantly comfortable, even though I only knew the bride and her brother. Part of it was the presence of lots of other young children, at least 6 of whom were aged 9 months to 3 years. But more than that, I didn't feel like I was the the pastor's wife along for the ride, as I often do when I only know the bride or groom. I felt welcome. And with that feeling, came one of comfort that allowed me to converse with people and feel more comfortable than I might otherwise. I was certainly no extrovert, but I was much less introverted.
6) Given the right environment, Lil' Bit can stay up waaaay past her bedtime with few repercussions--although med times in the morning are slightly more difficult. Being in Chicago meant we were in a different time zone, so keeping her up until 8:30 p.m. Friday night was like 9:30 our time--3 hours past her bedtime! It was even later last night with the wedding reception, but she did great. We got her up at 5 (Chicago time) for her first med and then let her go back to bed for another hour before her second med. It worked out pretty well.
7) There is no logic to what children want. After a four-hour car ride, Lil' Bit was tired of being strapped into the car seat and she was not afraid to let us know about it. Upon arriving at home, I got her out of the car first thing and set her down in the kitchen while I tried to unpack the car. Ha! She was not in the house a whole 30 seconds before she was banging on the backdoor crying and begging to be strapped into the swing in the backyard. In all fairness, if I have to be strapped in, I'd rather be outside in the shade with the breeze in my hair, too. Still, not exactly what I figured her first move would be.
8) We are playing at a much higher level. Even with the ER visit and the cab rides and the staying up late and various other difficulties, we did not feel like the trip was "ruined." We had a great time at the wedding events, enjoyed our walk along the river, and made the most of our time. It was our first non-family out-of-town trip since Lil' Bit began her meds and it went surprisingly well.
9) There is always some adjustment. After sleeping in the same room with us for two nights and being rocked to sleep both of those nights, it was understandably difficult for Lil' Bit to be placed in her crib in her room by herself at regular time this evening. So, I went back in and held her until she fell asleep. That way, we still implemented the regularly scheduled bedtime and sleeping in her own space, but she still got snuggles. And, who am I kidding, I loved getting snuggled right back.
It's great to be home and to get back into the routine. But it was equally nice to discover that we are capable of taking trips even though Lil' Bit has special needs.
6.10.2012
6.07.2012
Making Space
Today, I would have been 20 weeks pregnant. I would have been half done. We would have been having an ultrasound and finding out if it was a boy or girl. Instead, I am working to lose weight and get myself ready for our one last try. One last try, the results of which we will receive around what would have been Oliver's due date. Is it serendipity, coincidence, irony, or just twisted? To me, it seems somehow crazy and right at the same time. Like that day was always going to be important for us. I am curious to know what the day will hold for us now. Finality, certainly, regardless of outcome. But will it be an affirmation of life, more disappointment, some of both? All I can do is wait. Wait and feel. Scared. Hopeful. Excited. Anxious. Impatient. Frustrated. Sad. And I'm giving myself some space. Space to remember the joy I felt when we found out I was pregnant. Space to remember the loss. Space to think about what might have been. Space to hope about what still might be. Space to send love to my angel baby. Space to be gentle with myself while I continue to heal. Space for feelings. Space for memories. Space for growth. Space for me. And maybe, hopefully, space for someone new in the coming months.
6.05.2012
Self-Worth, Advertising, and the Mommy Wars
I have been thinking a lot since I wrote my last post about how we became a society full of people who don't value themselves. What I decided was that it has likely been created, in no small part, by advertising and the media. Advertisers have long used psychological concepts to turn us into good consumers. The problem is, good consumers from a company's perspective, are those who buy a product regardless of whether they need it. Therefore, their job is to convince us that we need whatever they are selling. And, the simplest way to do that, is to make us feel inadequate without it:
If you don't drink our beer or drive our car, you won't get women.
If you don't use this make-up, you'll look old and wrinkley and who would want you then.
If you don't buy this toy, you aren't really having fun and all your other friends will wonder why you don't have it.
If you don't use the superfast phone network, you don't care enough about making the most of your time.
If you don't use this diaper, you don't care enough about your child.
Even the commercials that manage to stick to a simple message of "we're the best product on the market based on thus and such research" are problematic because they include the (subtle or not so subtle) unspoken message that, if you are using another product, it is inferior and you are stupid for doing so. After all, they have science on their side.
But these messages of being unworthy or not measuring up come in forms other than advertising. Nowhere is this more visible than the "Mommy Wars." For the uninitiated, the "Mommy Wars" result from a perceived dichotomy of moms. It caricatures mothers into one of two categories, both of whom tend to brand themselves as carrying the torch of feminism. Group one is defined as: stay-at-home, attachment parenting, breastfeeding advocate, co-sleeping, home birthing, "granola" moms. Group two is defined as: moms who work outside the home, formula feeders, separate sleepers, elective c-sections, and those who refuse to make time in their schedules to actually raise their children. The truth is, most women do not fall entirely within either category. But, even those who attempt to bridge the gap end up being criticized.
Although the Mommy Wars are usually simmering beneath the surface, they exploded full force into mainstream media with Time Magazine's cover of a mother breastfeeding her toddler and asking "Are you mom enough?" At least one popular blogger suggested that we should not give in to the blatant attempt by Time to reignite the war. But we can't help ourselves. Because, ultimately, the truth behind why the Time magazine cover caused such controversy, the feelings behind the mommy wars, and why advertising works is the same. We need to be right and, in our society, there is only one right way to do anything. Our job is to figure it out and do it. Otherwise, we are failures or slackers.
Our self-worth comes from knowing we are right. Shades of gray mean we can't find our place and, therefore, can't estimate our self-worth. Accordingly, we create a false dichotomy of black and white and constantly compare what we are doing with everyone else to make sure we're still adequate. If someone suggests that breastfeeding is best for children, they must automatically be trying to make those who formula feed feel inadequate. If a mother suggests that going to work makes her a better parent, she must be slamming stay-at-home moms. We have lost nuance. We have lost dialogue. We just shout at one another without listening and, in doing so, continue to feed the beast of inadequacy. After all, if you are right, then anyone making an alternative choice must, therefore, be wrong.
Here's my belief about parenting: there are a multitude of ways to do it right, and a multitude of ways to do it wrong. We all want what is best for our children; few parents intend to do their children harm. Every parent's circumstances are different and every child is different. What works for one child, may not work with another, even within the same family unit. The point of the information age is to make it accessible to people so that they can read it, digest it, and make the best, most informed choices they can for themselves. And we have to support parents in the choices they make, even if they are not the choices we would make. Thus, the choice to have a hospital birth does not automatically mean you don't support home-birthing and doulas. Having an epidural or a c-section does not make you any less of a mother. Regardless of whether you co-sleep with your child or let them "cry it out," you are performing an experiment. Indeed, all life is an experiment. How do you figure out how to parent your child? Trial and error. But none of this makes us inadequate or stupid. It simply makes us human. And our choices are just that--ours. Different does not equal wrong and I would prefer to spend my energy figuring out ways to make all children feel valued and supported rather than tearing each other down for the choices we make as parents.
So, in case no one has told you recently: You are mom enough. You are dad enough. You are enough. So long as you love your children and you are making the best decision you know how, you are doing a great job regardless of whether your parenting looks anything like mine. And I support you in it.
If you don't drink our beer or drive our car, you won't get women.
If you don't use this make-up, you'll look old and wrinkley and who would want you then.
If you don't buy this toy, you aren't really having fun and all your other friends will wonder why you don't have it.
If you don't use the superfast phone network, you don't care enough about making the most of your time.
If you don't use this diaper, you don't care enough about your child.
Even the commercials that manage to stick to a simple message of "we're the best product on the market based on thus and such research" are problematic because they include the (subtle or not so subtle) unspoken message that, if you are using another product, it is inferior and you are stupid for doing so. After all, they have science on their side.
But these messages of being unworthy or not measuring up come in forms other than advertising. Nowhere is this more visible than the "Mommy Wars." For the uninitiated, the "Mommy Wars" result from a perceived dichotomy of moms. It caricatures mothers into one of two categories, both of whom tend to brand themselves as carrying the torch of feminism. Group one is defined as: stay-at-home, attachment parenting, breastfeeding advocate, co-sleeping, home birthing, "granola" moms. Group two is defined as: moms who work outside the home, formula feeders, separate sleepers, elective c-sections, and those who refuse to make time in their schedules to actually raise their children. The truth is, most women do not fall entirely within either category. But, even those who attempt to bridge the gap end up being criticized.
Although the Mommy Wars are usually simmering beneath the surface, they exploded full force into mainstream media with Time Magazine's cover of a mother breastfeeding her toddler and asking "Are you mom enough?" At least one popular blogger suggested that we should not give in to the blatant attempt by Time to reignite the war. But we can't help ourselves. Because, ultimately, the truth behind why the Time magazine cover caused such controversy, the feelings behind the mommy wars, and why advertising works is the same. We need to be right and, in our society, there is only one right way to do anything. Our job is to figure it out and do it. Otherwise, we are failures or slackers.
Our self-worth comes from knowing we are right. Shades of gray mean we can't find our place and, therefore, can't estimate our self-worth. Accordingly, we create a false dichotomy of black and white and constantly compare what we are doing with everyone else to make sure we're still adequate. If someone suggests that breastfeeding is best for children, they must automatically be trying to make those who formula feed feel inadequate. If a mother suggests that going to work makes her a better parent, she must be slamming stay-at-home moms. We have lost nuance. We have lost dialogue. We just shout at one another without listening and, in doing so, continue to feed the beast of inadequacy. After all, if you are right, then anyone making an alternative choice must, therefore, be wrong.
Here's my belief about parenting: there are a multitude of ways to do it right, and a multitude of ways to do it wrong. We all want what is best for our children; few parents intend to do their children harm. Every parent's circumstances are different and every child is different. What works for one child, may not work with another, even within the same family unit. The point of the information age is to make it accessible to people so that they can read it, digest it, and make the best, most informed choices they can for themselves. And we have to support parents in the choices they make, even if they are not the choices we would make. Thus, the choice to have a hospital birth does not automatically mean you don't support home-birthing and doulas. Having an epidural or a c-section does not make you any less of a mother. Regardless of whether you co-sleep with your child or let them "cry it out," you are performing an experiment. Indeed, all life is an experiment. How do you figure out how to parent your child? Trial and error. But none of this makes us inadequate or stupid. It simply makes us human. And our choices are just that--ours. Different does not equal wrong and I would prefer to spend my energy figuring out ways to make all children feel valued and supported rather than tearing each other down for the choices we make as parents.
So, in case no one has told you recently: You are mom enough. You are dad enough. You are enough. So long as you love your children and you are making the best decision you know how, you are doing a great job regardless of whether your parenting looks anything like mine. And I support you in it.
6.02.2012
Bullying
As the news continues to be filled with stories of children who kill themselves or others because they are being bullied, I worry about how to raise Lil' Bit to have enough self-esteem to survive these behaviors and to be open enough to tell me if things are going wrong. Too often, the parents indicate that they didn't know anything was wrong. More tragic is when parents have gotten involved and schools have done nothing to stop the behavior. That leaves it to us parents to make our kids tough enough to withstand any such bullying, without teaching them to resort to violence. In our culture, easier said than done. Why, for goodness sake, do we live in a society where cutting other people down in order to feel better about ourselves is socially acceptable?
All of these stories also force me to deal with my own experiences with childhood bullying. I got by with help from my friends and a few special teachers, but it wasn't easy--particularly when people I had thought were my friends were working behind my back, making things worse. Being the subject of false rumors and having teachers believe them made for awkward classes. I occasionally thought of killing myself, although I was probably too chicken to ever really do it. But, I did reach the point where I was self-mutilating by scratching my arms with my fingernails until they bled. I hated how other kids could make me feel. I didn't need to be popular, but I would have preferred not being a pariah. I can only imagine how much worse those experiences would have been if we had had Facebook, Twitter, or cell phones with cameras back then. I hate that, even now, I will still occasionally question my self-worth based on things that happened then. I have done so much, accomplished so much, have friends and family who would move the world for me, but under the right conditions, in a few seconds, I can be reduced to a puddle of insecurity.
Whether we're hardwired this way, or simply conditioned by society, it seems as though we believe negative things much more easily. If we viewed ourselves from the outside, as a product being reviewed on Amazon, and there were 400 5-star reviews, numerous 4-star reviews, and 7 1-star reviews, we would probably think that this was a stellar product. Why is it, then, that we internally believe the 7 1-star reviews? Why is it so much easier to see how crazy it is when smart people think they are dumb and beautiful people think they are ugly if it is someone other than ourselves? But, more importantly, how do we change it? And how do I equip my child not only to withstand any bullying to which she might be exposed, but also teach her to stand with those who are being bullied so that they don't feel alone?
I have no answers. But I have a theory on where to start--I can do my best to embody and model for Lil' Bit those behaviors, values, and characteristics I want her to have. I will do my best to support her, love her, and build her up to protect her from the harmful things people can say. But I still hold out hope that maybe, by the time she starts school, we, as a society, will have a better handle on how to stop this madness.
All of these stories also force me to deal with my own experiences with childhood bullying. I got by with help from my friends and a few special teachers, but it wasn't easy--particularly when people I had thought were my friends were working behind my back, making things worse. Being the subject of false rumors and having teachers believe them made for awkward classes. I occasionally thought of killing myself, although I was probably too chicken to ever really do it. But, I did reach the point where I was self-mutilating by scratching my arms with my fingernails until they bled. I hated how other kids could make me feel. I didn't need to be popular, but I would have preferred not being a pariah. I can only imagine how much worse those experiences would have been if we had had Facebook, Twitter, or cell phones with cameras back then. I hate that, even now, I will still occasionally question my self-worth based on things that happened then. I have done so much, accomplished so much, have friends and family who would move the world for me, but under the right conditions, in a few seconds, I can be reduced to a puddle of insecurity.
Whether we're hardwired this way, or simply conditioned by society, it seems as though we believe negative things much more easily. If we viewed ourselves from the outside, as a product being reviewed on Amazon, and there were 400 5-star reviews, numerous 4-star reviews, and 7 1-star reviews, we would probably think that this was a stellar product. Why is it, then, that we internally believe the 7 1-star reviews? Why is it so much easier to see how crazy it is when smart people think they are dumb and beautiful people think they are ugly if it is someone other than ourselves? But, more importantly, how do we change it? And how do I equip my child not only to withstand any bullying to which she might be exposed, but also teach her to stand with those who are being bullied so that they don't feel alone?
I have no answers. But I have a theory on where to start--I can do my best to embody and model for Lil' Bit those behaviors, values, and characteristics I want her to have. I will do my best to support her, love her, and build her up to protect her from the harmful things people can say. But I still hold out hope that maybe, by the time she starts school, we, as a society, will have a better handle on how to stop this madness.
5.30.2012
Finding My Humanity
Today was a difficult day. This past weekend, we lost a very dear friend and today was her funeral. She was such a wonderful, generous, loving person. My life is truly better for having known her and I am saddened that Lil' Bit will only ever hear stories about her. Her funeral was beautiful, but it was difficult. Difficult in a way most people don't have to experience. Difficult because my spouse was the officiant. Difficult because I had to grieve by myself. This is not to say I was alone. I was surrounded by friends and one of them placed a loving hand on my back during the most emotional parts. But even she had her spouse with her, whose hand she could hold, and who could comfort her in a way no one else could.
Looking around, I saw most of my married friends being comforted by their spouses and, in that moment, I felt envy. Envy the depths of which I had not felt since I had to watch friends become pregnant while I struggled with infertility. I did not begrudge them their comfort. I just wished that I could have a spouse with a "regular" job, so he could sit there with me. But as I sat in my grief for my friend, it occurred to me that if I had a spouse with a "regular" job, we would have never ended up here. And I would never have met her. It also dawned on me that there was at least one other person in that room missing the presence of their spouse, only their spouse would not be there to comfort them at the end of the service, or the end of the day, or ever again.
And I cried. I cried in thanks for the blessings I had. I cried at the injustice of the world losing such an amazing person. I cried because I realized that I had things other people would envy. And I cried at the humanness of my envy, of my self-centeredness at a time when I should have been thinking of my friends, of my guilt over having felt envy and self-centeredness, and of my joy at recognizing my blessings. To quote Doctor Who, "Crying when you're happy-that is so human." Today, of all days, my friend gave me another gift; she helped me see my humanity.
Thanks for everything, Connie. You are loved and missed. Someday, we'll understand.
Looking around, I saw most of my married friends being comforted by their spouses and, in that moment, I felt envy. Envy the depths of which I had not felt since I had to watch friends become pregnant while I struggled with infertility. I did not begrudge them their comfort. I just wished that I could have a spouse with a "regular" job, so he could sit there with me. But as I sat in my grief for my friend, it occurred to me that if I had a spouse with a "regular" job, we would have never ended up here. And I would never have met her. It also dawned on me that there was at least one other person in that room missing the presence of their spouse, only their spouse would not be there to comfort them at the end of the service, or the end of the day, or ever again.
And I cried. I cried in thanks for the blessings I had. I cried at the injustice of the world losing such an amazing person. I cried because I realized that I had things other people would envy. And I cried at the humanness of my envy, of my self-centeredness at a time when I should have been thinking of my friends, of my guilt over having felt envy and self-centeredness, and of my joy at recognizing my blessings. To quote Doctor Who, "Crying when you're happy-that is so human." Today, of all days, my friend gave me another gift; she helped me see my humanity.
Thanks for everything, Connie. You are loved and missed. Someday, we'll understand.
5.26.2012
One Last Ride
Well, it's official. We've signed up to take one last ride on the IVF rollercoaster. We've decided not to try until September because otherwise, either the shots, the procedure, or the due date would interfere with something else already on the calendar. And, since we get to pick, why the heck not make it most convenient for us, right?
So, you probably have some questions. Like, what made us decide we wanted to try again? Or perhaps, how do you know it will be the last time? Fortunately, we have some answers we're willing to share. So, here goes.
When we did the FET (frozen embryo transfer) last time, we pretty much agreed that we would get what we get and be done. So, if I didn't get pregnant, we would stop, but if we did, then we'd have however many kids we got and call it a day. We hadn't planned on there being another alternative. But, there was. I can't speak for Phil, but for me, getting pregnant and then losing Oliver only made me really want to try again. As heavy as the loss hit me, I knew that I wanted another child. I reached my decision long before Phil did. But, since this really isn't a solo endeavor, he had to be on board. Otherwise, we weren't doing it again. I was smart enough not to try to get a decision out of him during Lent/Easter or the few weeks thereafter. But after that, we started to talk about where we were. One problem both of us had was that we were so exhausted by Lil' Bit and the rest of our lives, we couldn't imagine having any energy for another child. Then, as you may recall, I discovered anti-depressants. Oh, brother! I suddenly had energy for me, for Lil' Bit, for work, and some left over. It was a freaking miracle as far as I was concerned. Suddenly, I felt like I could handle another one. At some point, Phil reached the same conclusion, and we moved forward and got our names on the calendar.
Another factor that played in to this decision for me was Lil' Bit's condition. I finally broke down and asked her doctors what they thought her life expectancy was. Obviously, because of her conditions, there is no real group of people to compare her with, but they both said the same thing. Given how great she's doing and the fact that she has never showed any symptoms, they don't see any reason at this point why she won't grow to adulthood. This was very important to me. I didn't want to be having a potential "replacement" child, and I didn't want a child that would feel second-banana to a sick older sibling. I also didn't think I could bring a child into the world knowing that they were going to have to experience the loss of their sibling. Certainly, there is no guarantee. There are many ways to lose a child, even a healthy one, long before they reach adulthood. But that risk is inherent with all children and not unique to Lil' Bit. So, it's one I was willing to accept.
And now we reach the million dollar question--how do we know this will be our last round. Well, several reasons. First, I am not willing to undergo another "fresh" cycle. The cost monetarily, physically, and emotionally are more than I am willing to endure. So what, you say. You have seven frozen embryos left and you're only going to use two. True. But, given Lil' Bit's congenital defect and the high likelihood that Oliver miscarried because of a genetic abnormality, and given that the clinic always uses the best and strongest embryos each time, chances of a viable pregnancy with the remaining five would be slimmer each time. Don't get me wrong. There are people who utilize each and every one and get healthy pregnancies with "lower" grade embryos. It's not a given. But it's a percentages game and it's one I'm not willing to play. So, this would be the last round I would want to use the frozens and I'm not willing to do another fresh. (And, in case you're wondering, provided that the clinic is willing to accept them, our plan is to donate the remaining ones for others to use.)
More than that, though, is that whatever result we get, we'll be emotionally and physically done. There are three possible results: no pregnancy; miscarriage; baby. If I don't get pregnant, we'd be looking at another procedure. Even if we did another FET, there is a high physical and emotional cost and I'm not getting any younger. As I creep closer to 40 and with Phil being five years older than I, it doesn't seem right to spend more assets on attempts for children that, if successful, would result in their reaching college age around the time we want to retire and, if not successful, simply depletes our assets when we have a child who requires ongoing medical care. If we miscarry again, I will be done. There is no way I could put myself through that again. And any new attempt would invariably have that risk. I am willing to take that risk once more, but that's all I can take. Finally, if we get pregnant and have a baby (or babies), we'll be done. We will have achieved our goal. No reason to do it again. Finally, attendant with each of these decisions is also the fact that, once we're done, I can finally have my hysterectomy and stop having all these problems.
So there you have it. Why we decided to try again, but why this will be our last try. Welcome to our one last ride. Come along and join the fun.
So, you probably have some questions. Like, what made us decide we wanted to try again? Or perhaps, how do you know it will be the last time? Fortunately, we have some answers we're willing to share. So, here goes.
When we did the FET (frozen embryo transfer) last time, we pretty much agreed that we would get what we get and be done. So, if I didn't get pregnant, we would stop, but if we did, then we'd have however many kids we got and call it a day. We hadn't planned on there being another alternative. But, there was. I can't speak for Phil, but for me, getting pregnant and then losing Oliver only made me really want to try again. As heavy as the loss hit me, I knew that I wanted another child. I reached my decision long before Phil did. But, since this really isn't a solo endeavor, he had to be on board. Otherwise, we weren't doing it again. I was smart enough not to try to get a decision out of him during Lent/Easter or the few weeks thereafter. But after that, we started to talk about where we were. One problem both of us had was that we were so exhausted by Lil' Bit and the rest of our lives, we couldn't imagine having any energy for another child. Then, as you may recall, I discovered anti-depressants. Oh, brother! I suddenly had energy for me, for Lil' Bit, for work, and some left over. It was a freaking miracle as far as I was concerned. Suddenly, I felt like I could handle another one. At some point, Phil reached the same conclusion, and we moved forward and got our names on the calendar.
Another factor that played in to this decision for me was Lil' Bit's condition. I finally broke down and asked her doctors what they thought her life expectancy was. Obviously, because of her conditions, there is no real group of people to compare her with, but they both said the same thing. Given how great she's doing and the fact that she has never showed any symptoms, they don't see any reason at this point why she won't grow to adulthood. This was very important to me. I didn't want to be having a potential "replacement" child, and I didn't want a child that would feel second-banana to a sick older sibling. I also didn't think I could bring a child into the world knowing that they were going to have to experience the loss of their sibling. Certainly, there is no guarantee. There are many ways to lose a child, even a healthy one, long before they reach adulthood. But that risk is inherent with all children and not unique to Lil' Bit. So, it's one I was willing to accept.
And now we reach the million dollar question--how do we know this will be our last round. Well, several reasons. First, I am not willing to undergo another "fresh" cycle. The cost monetarily, physically, and emotionally are more than I am willing to endure. So what, you say. You have seven frozen embryos left and you're only going to use two. True. But, given Lil' Bit's congenital defect and the high likelihood that Oliver miscarried because of a genetic abnormality, and given that the clinic always uses the best and strongest embryos each time, chances of a viable pregnancy with the remaining five would be slimmer each time. Don't get me wrong. There are people who utilize each and every one and get healthy pregnancies with "lower" grade embryos. It's not a given. But it's a percentages game and it's one I'm not willing to play. So, this would be the last round I would want to use the frozens and I'm not willing to do another fresh. (And, in case you're wondering, provided that the clinic is willing to accept them, our plan is to donate the remaining ones for others to use.)
More than that, though, is that whatever result we get, we'll be emotionally and physically done. There are three possible results: no pregnancy; miscarriage; baby. If I don't get pregnant, we'd be looking at another procedure. Even if we did another FET, there is a high physical and emotional cost and I'm not getting any younger. As I creep closer to 40 and with Phil being five years older than I, it doesn't seem right to spend more assets on attempts for children that, if successful, would result in their reaching college age around the time we want to retire and, if not successful, simply depletes our assets when we have a child who requires ongoing medical care. If we miscarry again, I will be done. There is no way I could put myself through that again. And any new attempt would invariably have that risk. I am willing to take that risk once more, but that's all I can take. Finally, if we get pregnant and have a baby (or babies), we'll be done. We will have achieved our goal. No reason to do it again. Finally, attendant with each of these decisions is also the fact that, once we're done, I can finally have my hysterectomy and stop having all these problems.
So there you have it. Why we decided to try again, but why this will be our last try. Welcome to our one last ride. Come along and join the fun.
5.25.2012
Free Will
As I watch Lil' Bit grow and learn, I have come to understand why God would want to give us free will. I have also come to understand the metaphor of God as father and us as children.
Infancy is wonderful. It is full of snuggles and coos and cute faces and learning your child's personality. But the real fun and joy, at least for me, has come as Lil' Bit got older. The way her face lights up when she sees me. The feeling of her little arms hugging me back. Her crawling into my lap to read her a book. I love that she is choosing to share time with me, choosing to give me love. As an infant, she didn't really have a choice. If I wanted to snuggle, we snuggled. And there's something amazing about snuggling a little, warm lump. But I wouldn't trade my sassy toddler who can show me affection, for anything. I imagine that for God, it's much the same way. The relationship is so much bigger, so much more meaningful, when it's by choice. Both He and I get more out of a relationship where I choose to be part of it, in the same way that Lil' Bit and I have a much more intimate relationship because she can choose whether she wants me in her personal space.
I imagine that the first time she tells me she hates me, I will have a small glimpse of what God must feel like when we yell and rage at Him because we don't understand why things happen. Getting upset is normal. But, ultimately, we have to trust that, in the same way that we are trying to do what we think is best for our children, knowing that they will get upset because they don't understand, God does the same. God has more knowledge and a bigger picture to look at than we do. But we still have free will. We can tell a child 100 times not to touch a hot stove, but ultimately, if they are persistent and choose to ignore the warnings, they will find a way to touch one. In the same way, God attempts to guide and nudge us in the right direction, gently at first, then in less subtle ways. But He will allow us to burn ourselves if we are persistent enough and ignore the warnings. So, the next time I feel like God is telling me "no," I will take time to rethink my position and see if it's because God is trying to gently guide me down another path.
This new-found understanding will not prevent me from getting angry at God in the future over things I feel are wrong or unjust. Just as it helps our children to get the anger out, it helps us to get it out, too. But, in the end, I hope to be able to say: "I'm sorry I got angry. I just don't understand. But it doesn't mean that I don't love you. And it doesn't mean that I don't want you in my life." And God will tell me, "Someday, you'll understand."
Infancy is wonderful. It is full of snuggles and coos and cute faces and learning your child's personality. But the real fun and joy, at least for me, has come as Lil' Bit got older. The way her face lights up when she sees me. The feeling of her little arms hugging me back. Her crawling into my lap to read her a book. I love that she is choosing to share time with me, choosing to give me love. As an infant, she didn't really have a choice. If I wanted to snuggle, we snuggled. And there's something amazing about snuggling a little, warm lump. But I wouldn't trade my sassy toddler who can show me affection, for anything. I imagine that for God, it's much the same way. The relationship is so much bigger, so much more meaningful, when it's by choice. Both He and I get more out of a relationship where I choose to be part of it, in the same way that Lil' Bit and I have a much more intimate relationship because she can choose whether she wants me in her personal space.
I imagine that the first time she tells me she hates me, I will have a small glimpse of what God must feel like when we yell and rage at Him because we don't understand why things happen. Getting upset is normal. But, ultimately, we have to trust that, in the same way that we are trying to do what we think is best for our children, knowing that they will get upset because they don't understand, God does the same. God has more knowledge and a bigger picture to look at than we do. But we still have free will. We can tell a child 100 times not to touch a hot stove, but ultimately, if they are persistent and choose to ignore the warnings, they will find a way to touch one. In the same way, God attempts to guide and nudge us in the right direction, gently at first, then in less subtle ways. But He will allow us to burn ourselves if we are persistent enough and ignore the warnings. So, the next time I feel like God is telling me "no," I will take time to rethink my position and see if it's because God is trying to gently guide me down another path.
This new-found understanding will not prevent me from getting angry at God in the future over things I feel are wrong or unjust. Just as it helps our children to get the anger out, it helps us to get it out, too. But, in the end, I hope to be able to say: "I'm sorry I got angry. I just don't understand. But it doesn't mean that I don't love you. And it doesn't mean that I don't want you in my life." And God will tell me, "Someday, you'll understand."
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