I went to my ward and stayed the whole sacrament meeting. I sat in the back and initially, I thought it wasn't so bad, but then sacrament was passed out and there was silence. Then the cute little kids in the pews in front me were being too darn cute, and I became envious and hurt and the tears just came. I wanted to walk out. I get embarrassed when I cry, but I made myself stay. I knew this was something I had to do. I had been feeling like I needed to go back to my ward and face it. I needed to face all the pregnant couples, the babies, the people that know about what happened, but I don't know they know, the being different from all of them, and the uncomfortable feeling as if there is an elephant in the room. The past few months, I have been hopping from ward to ward so that I could take sacrament and go to church, but that has made me feel even more alone. But no more.
I did it. And now I am proud of myself for doing it. This was a really huge step for me and slowly it has been getting better. It hasn't been any easier, but now at least there is some sense of peace in knowing that I am dealing with it, I am overcoming my fears and trials, and I WILL BE okay.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Infertility Steps
One thing I have learned about infertility so far is that you literally have to take it one hour at a time.
Today was a good example of that. I had a good morning and afternoon, despite shelling out a gazillon dollars to fix our car. I have been feeling a little more normal this week. But then this evening as I was looking over my calendar I realized that tomorrow I have an OB/GYN appointment to follow up on my surgery, discuss endometriosis, talk about birth control, talk about infertility, etc…..
Then that stupid sharp pain in my heart came again, so I quickly got busy and I was okay, but then I ran errands. In the car I found myself with tears falling down my face. Oh those ugly wet things, I wish they would go away! And once I got to the store, I pulled myself together and went in and pretended to be okay.
Inside the store (Target), I walked past the little girl’s clothing department, and normally, I would smile and say, “Oh how cute!” but this time I fought back tears and walked like a zombie through the store, not knowing why the heck I was even there.
Oh yeah, I had to buy feminine napkins. That’s why I was there. And as I was standing there trying to figure out the coupons for it, I got pissed that I even had to buy them. I am supposed to be pregnant right now, gosh darn it! I shouldn’t need these for 6 more months!
Then the BIG hurt. The pregnancy tests are on the same aisle as the feminine napkins and I longingly looked down the aisle at them and I see a couple approach, obviously very excited. They looked for a minute, grabbed a pregnancy test, and walked away smiling. Sign.
I know. This is a depressing post. Sorry, but I know I am not the only one.
And I feel a lot better now that it is written.
Okay, that’s it, I’m out.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Marriage
I thought I would put in my two sense on the effects of infertility on marriage. I have been really pondering this subject and have been glad to see other blogs have had the same thought as me. It's as if we are all on the same page! I think I have a unique perspective which I will share in the 2nd part, but my 1st part is probably not new and something we've all figured out which is men react differently to coping then us women.
Part 1:
Although, this infertility thing is new to me, I will say that no matter how supportive (and let me note my hubby is VERY supportive) your husband is, infertilty causes a strain on a marriage. My husband got over the grief in a matter days, no strike that, hours after the surgery. Or so it seemed. He said that he coped in his own way (aka hunting). But because he wasn't sad or crying over it like I was, I thought it wasn't as a big deal to him as it was for me. He didn't want to talk about it, to relive those feelings. He would listen to me, but he didn't grieve with me. Later on I realized that just because he wasn't coping or grieving the way I expected him or wanted him to cope or grieve didn't mean that he wasn't coping, grieving, and hurting. Even knowing this, almost two months later I still find it hard not to be frustrated at times, that as I cry every day, he seems to be okay. But then I remember this:
Part 2
I chose him to be my husband and because of that we will get through this. Together. Let me explain why this is HUGE people! My ethnic background is Cambodian. My dear Mother endured horrific tragedies in order to escape out of the Vietnam War and come to America. Her trials are extraordinary, far worse than any trials I have gone through or hope to go through. When she got here, she was 19, her family was poor, and the custom back then was to have an arranged marriage. In order for her family to survive, her mother (my grandmother), made an arrangement for her to be married to the first suitor who could provide a specific monetary amount. My dear father, had seen my mother, fell in love with her and was determined to marry her. He was, too, poor, and might I add the only adopted son in a family of 9 kids. There was several suitors, but my father was the first to come up with the money. So, to make a long story short, my parents were married. My mom at 19 was married to someone she barely knew and was over a decade older than her. I never realized the meaning of this until a few years after I had been married. To love someone and to be in with love someone are two different things. Having a choice to who you marry is something I think we Americans forget and take for granted. I can not imagine the emotions that go along with an arranged marriage for both sides. My guess is there not many support groups for this or blogs on this subject. I may be wrong, but it is not something you hear about often and I know how lonely it feels to be infertile, but I can't imagine going through this with someone I did not choose to go through this with. My parents are extremely good people and I know now they love each other. And it all works out, trust me, one of the most beautiful moments I have ever witnessed is their sealing in the temple 3 years ago. Tomorrow, is their anniversary, they will have been married for 28 years. I love them dearly and hope through their story you have learned that no matter how rough it gets in your marriage, remember that it was your choice, YOU chose that man to be your husband. Don't take that for granted.
Part 1:
Although, this infertility thing is new to me, I will say that no matter how supportive (and let me note my hubby is VERY supportive) your husband is, infertilty causes a strain on a marriage. My husband got over the grief in a matter days, no strike that, hours after the surgery. Or so it seemed. He said that he coped in his own way (aka hunting). But because he wasn't sad or crying over it like I was, I thought it wasn't as a big deal to him as it was for me. He didn't want to talk about it, to relive those feelings. He would listen to me, but he didn't grieve with me. Later on I realized that just because he wasn't coping or grieving the way I expected him or wanted him to cope or grieve didn't mean that he wasn't coping, grieving, and hurting. Even knowing this, almost two months later I still find it hard not to be frustrated at times, that as I cry every day, he seems to be okay. But then I remember this:
Part 2
I chose him to be my husband and because of that we will get through this. Together. Let me explain why this is HUGE people! My ethnic background is Cambodian. My dear Mother endured horrific tragedies in order to escape out of the Vietnam War and come to America. Her trials are extraordinary, far worse than any trials I have gone through or hope to go through. When she got here, she was 19, her family was poor, and the custom back then was to have an arranged marriage. In order for her family to survive, her mother (my grandmother), made an arrangement for her to be married to the first suitor who could provide a specific monetary amount. My dear father, had seen my mother, fell in love with her and was determined to marry her. He was, too, poor, and might I add the only adopted son in a family of 9 kids. There was several suitors, but my father was the first to come up with the money. So, to make a long story short, my parents were married. My mom at 19 was married to someone she barely knew and was over a decade older than her. I never realized the meaning of this until a few years after I had been married. To love someone and to be in with love someone are two different things. Having a choice to who you marry is something I think we Americans forget and take for granted. I can not imagine the emotions that go along with an arranged marriage for both sides. My guess is there not many support groups for this or blogs on this subject. I may be wrong, but it is not something you hear about often and I know how lonely it feels to be infertile, but I can't imagine going through this with someone I did not choose to go through this with. My parents are extremely good people and I know now they love each other. And it all works out, trust me, one of the most beautiful moments I have ever witnessed is their sealing in the temple 3 years ago. Tomorrow, is their anniversary, they will have been married for 28 years. I love them dearly and hope through their story you have learned that no matter how rough it gets in your marriage, remember that it was your choice, YOU chose that man to be your husband. Don't take that for granted.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Grief
As you probably noticed in my prior post I have been desperately wishing for this grief process to be over.
I KNOW that everything will be okay, but I have struggled with the fact that if I know this, then why am I still so sad, so emotional, and dare I say it, in dispair?
I found out this answer today after discussing this with my grief counselor. (For those of you struggling with ANYTHING, I am a huge advocate of seeking help, namely from a trained counselor, therapist, or physciatrist. There is no shame in asking for help.)
So the answer is:
I know this is pretty simple and duh statements, but my counselor went on to relate it with this analogy that really made a whole lot of sense:
If you broke your arm and your arm was healing, would you be able to make your arm heal any quicker? No. You would have to let it heal naturally and then eventually, go through physical therapy in order to have your arm back to normal conditions. If you didn't your arm may hurt worse or hurt for a longer period of time or never completely heal. This is the same for grief. You can't hurry up the process. You have to allow yourself to heal naturally and go through all of the stages and emotions of grief. If you don't you will still continue to be broken and prolong the process. This does not mean that later on the road you will not cry or feel sad because of infertility. Just remember that grieving, healing, and coping are all different. If you try to quicken the healing process just to "get over it" you are just hurting yourself, so please allow yourselves to feel the pain. I know it is hard. Just know that I pray for all of you who are hurting.
I KNOW that everything will be okay, but I have struggled with the fact that if I know this, then why am I still so sad, so emotional, and dare I say it, in dispair?
I found out this answer today after discussing this with my grief counselor. (For those of you struggling with ANYTHING, I am a huge advocate of seeking help, namely from a trained counselor, therapist, or physciatrist. There is no shame in asking for help.)
So the answer is:
Grief will take longer than most people think it will.
Grief will take more energy than a person ever imagined.
I know this is pretty simple and duh statements, but my counselor went on to relate it with this analogy that really made a whole lot of sense:
If you broke your arm and your arm was healing, would you be able to make your arm heal any quicker? No. You would have to let it heal naturally and then eventually, go through physical therapy in order to have your arm back to normal conditions. If you didn't your arm may hurt worse or hurt for a longer period of time or never completely heal. This is the same for grief. You can't hurry up the process. You have to allow yourself to heal naturally and go through all of the stages and emotions of grief. If you don't you will still continue to be broken and prolong the process. This does not mean that later on the road you will not cry or feel sad because of infertility. Just remember that grieving, healing, and coping are all different. If you try to quicken the healing process just to "get over it" you are just hurting yourself, so please allow yourselves to feel the pain. I know it is hard. Just know that I pray for all of you who are hurting.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Dixie Chicks "So Hard"
It helps to know you aren't the only one. This song really lifted me up today.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
It is still rough...
Yesterday I started my first full-time semester in college. I was nervous since I had gotten my associates degree online. I wasn't sure if I was ready, especially with still grieving and crying practically every day. I thought it would help keep my mind off of things, but nope. I had signed up for institute with my favorite instructor and as soon as we started to sing the hymn I started crying. I sat in the back so no one noticed and I was able to keep the tears from continuing to flow for the rest of the hour, but after class I sat down with my instructor and told him what was going on and bursted into tears. I was really embarrased. I really hate crying in front of people. I don't know why I thought the darkness I was in would suddenly disappear because I was busy with school. I didn't realize that dealing with infertility you have to take it one hour at a time. There are moments when I am fine and sometimes even filled with some hope, but then somehow a darkness creeps in and brings me down. At this point I am so sick of being sad. I am sick of one moment being fine and the next being a mess. It's embarassing. It's draining. Every one says things will get better as time passes. So far it hasn't happened.
Adoption Meeting*
Originally posted Saturday, January 8, 2011.
And the adoption emotional rollercoaster begins:
We met with out adoption caseworker on Thursday and I have been trying to digest it ever since. I thought I would be just as excited as the day before when I got the phone call saying that our meeting got bumped up, but instead I left the meeting dazed and overwhelmed.
As I sit here and stare at the pile of paperwork we need to fill out in order to just "pre-qualify" I am deeply saddened at the symbolism of it all. At this moment this is how I feel:
Bringing a child into this world is the most sacred and precious event any two people can do. From the beginning of time, we have been commanded to multiply and replenish the Earth. And as women, we have been naturally instilled that one day we will get pregnant and have children. It is our duty and a beautiful gift that Heavenly Father has entrusted us with. What could be more sacred than conceiving a child and having it grow inside you for safe keeping until he/she is ready to brought into this world? You and their Father essentially gave life. Can you think of anything more sacred than that?
To sit here and have to complete paperwork so that I may be come a Mother and Jake a Father, indeed is very unnatural, but sometimes a necessary means and a different way in starting a family. Please don't take this as me downplaying adoption. I love adoption. I believe that every adoption is a miracle and that it is beautiful. I know that in it's own way it holds a different ora of sacredness. It is just right now, I am deeply saddened that the sacredness of becoming a Mother naturally is taken away by the task of paperwork. How is it fair that someone else gets to decide that we are worthy to be parents? How is it fair that the fate of us being called Mom and Dad is in the hands of someone else? I understand that if I were a birthmother I would want all of the steps taken to ensure that I was placing my child in a good home. I get that. But in my shoes I am hurt that a drug addict can have a baby without consulting anyone and we can't without doing paperwork and being studied to see if we are fit parents.
My heart aches as Jake and I have begun to realize that we may actually never have our own biological child. I can not begin to explain the hurt that resignates knowing that we may not get to experience the 9 months of watching my stomach grow or ever having a child that looks or acts like us. I didn't want to give up hope, but with adopting it makes the situation even more real that I cannot have what others can. And hope may one day lead to disappointment. I still know in my heart that our baby is waiting for us to one day adopt him or her. I know that in the end this will be all be worth it. My eyes well up with tears whenever I think about how one day we will be sealed in the temple with our child and I will know that that pile of paperwork and the adoption process is just a minor speedbump in the road. Everything is going to be okay.
We met with out adoption caseworker on Thursday and I have been trying to digest it ever since. I thought I would be just as excited as the day before when I got the phone call saying that our meeting got bumped up, but instead I left the meeting dazed and overwhelmed.
As I sit here and stare at the pile of paperwork we need to fill out in order to just "pre-qualify" I am deeply saddened at the symbolism of it all. At this moment this is how I feel:
Bringing a child into this world is the most sacred and precious event any two people can do. From the beginning of time, we have been commanded to multiply and replenish the Earth. And as women, we have been naturally instilled that one day we will get pregnant and have children. It is our duty and a beautiful gift that Heavenly Father has entrusted us with. What could be more sacred than conceiving a child and having it grow inside you for safe keeping until he/she is ready to brought into this world? You and their Father essentially gave life. Can you think of anything more sacred than that?
To sit here and have to complete paperwork so that I may be come a Mother and Jake a Father, indeed is very unnatural, but sometimes a necessary means and a different way in starting a family. Please don't take this as me downplaying adoption. I love adoption. I believe that every adoption is a miracle and that it is beautiful. I know that in it's own way it holds a different ora of sacredness. It is just right now, I am deeply saddened that the sacredness of becoming a Mother naturally is taken away by the task of paperwork. How is it fair that someone else gets to decide that we are worthy to be parents? How is it fair that the fate of us being called Mom and Dad is in the hands of someone else? I understand that if I were a birthmother I would want all of the steps taken to ensure that I was placing my child in a good home. I get that. But in my shoes I am hurt that a drug addict can have a baby without consulting anyone and we can't without doing paperwork and being studied to see if we are fit parents.
My heart aches as Jake and I have begun to realize that we may actually never have our own biological child. I can not begin to explain the hurt that resignates knowing that we may not get to experience the 9 months of watching my stomach grow or ever having a child that looks or acts like us. I didn't want to give up hope, but with adopting it makes the situation even more real that I cannot have what others can. And hope may one day lead to disappointment. I still know in my heart that our baby is waiting for us to one day adopt him or her. I know that in the end this will be all be worth it. My eyes well up with tears whenever I think about how one day we will be sealed in the temple with our child and I will know that that pile of paperwork and the adoption process is just a minor speedbump in the road. Everything is going to be okay.
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