mixed...blessings?

I headed to the grocery store about 8:45PM - I always get a week's groceries on Saturday and we were traveling yesterday, so this evening was it. It was completely dark when I brought the groceries to my car, and I heard the yelling of a small child as I walked across the parking lot. In the cart return area, I saw two adults crouched down on either side of one of those giant plastic toy car type things that are integrated into the front of a shopping cart. At first I assumed they were trying to extricate their injured kiddo (I had injury on the brain, since I had just avoided running an adorable toddler over with my cart), but then I realized that the whining and yelling was actually a tantrum. It required both adults to extract the yelling preschooler, who would not leave the toy car voluntarily. Dad finally stood up with the little one pitched over his shoulder and managed to strap him into the minivan, though the yelling continued, fainter, after the sliding door shut. I didn't hear much of the parents' voices - a few words trying to reason with the child, a comment or two to each other. They sounded exasperated, but mostly tired and quiet. Not yelling. Which I thought was pretty impressive - I bet I would have yelled.

And I thought, I've been traveling all weekend and I haven't gotten much sleep. Grocery shopping late in the evening is not really ideal, and I'm just doing it because it will take even more out of me tomorrow, but I still have to go home, unload all the groceries, put them away, and pay a month's worth of bills (all these things are now done, BTW). And there's just one of me. Nobody to strap in, nobody who might break my eggs or drop my produce, nobody to unstrap and shepherd into the house while I have to deal with all the groceries as well. Nobody but me to bathe or put to bed. Certainly nobody to drag screaming out of a shopping cart toy after fruitless attempts at persuasion and bribery. And I realized as I got in my car that I'm just not sure those are challenges I'm really desperate for right now. Dealing with my groceries is plenty to occupy me, and frankly I wouldn't say no to a little more sleep than I'm getting. Working makes me tired enough as it is.

Huh.

Open for Business!

This weekend the pool became "COMPLETELY" ready for human enjoyment! It wasn't easy ridding the bottom of more than 2 lbs of dead worms! YUCK!



I would like to thank my trusty pool boy for all of his hard work! I just wish he could work some magic and make the water a little warmer.



As mentioned earlier the water is now up to a toasty 68 degrees. Hence, the reason why Atley is trying to coax Nash into the water by whispering sweet nothings into his ear, instead of jumping in himself.



We did manage to get them into the pool momentarily!




After which, they both rushed to the hot tub where they could play freely without the fear of hypothermia.




By the way, my garden is growing too! What a miracle! Why am I so amazed that squash can grow from such tiny seeds planted haphazardly by a two year old. I have heard about this phenomenon all my life but I am still so impressed to watch my little garden grow!

it's back

Apparently, my retrospective calculations were correct. This was not an anovulatory cycle (actually, I ovulated pretty much on time), my temperature change did indeed indicate ovulation, and the very slight indications of fertile CM were just what they appeared to be - but all there was. TCOYF says that stress can cause CM to dry up, so maybe that's all that happened. Either way, after what I approximate as a 12-day luteal phase (that's REALLY ballparked, given that "peak day" is unclear and I have to correct for the fact that my temperature always rises late), CD1 was yesterday. Which was the day of this wedding we were attending. It didn't really matter, because I was clever and packed a dress that wasn't snug on the tummy, naproxen, tampons, the whole nine yards (I guess I had faith in my own calculations even at the time). Unfortunately, because my endo is evil, it DID mean that I got such a stomachache (even WITH the Aleve) that we had to leave the reception really early - around 8, I think - but we snuck away, and we had already had our cake and watched the father-daughter dance, so all was well. That will teach me to consume food on the first day of my period. Like I've never gotten that lesson before.

BTW, I am confident that the bride is already knocked up even as I write this, which will form the final strain on a once-close friendship that didn't really thrive through her engagement and marriage (the groom is a great guy, but it was kind of impossible to spend any time with her after they started dating, and we weren't, I don't know, lifelong friends, where that wouldn't matter. Maybe I'm being unreasonable. Maybe I did the same myself! In fact, of course, I don't have any close law school girlfriends any more, although I had several before I started dating my DH. So, it happens, and it will happen to her too. Sorry, but priorities mean sacrifices. Also, when you call me in your second trimester and want to see how I'm doing since you haven't spent time with any of your friends in five months, and you ask me how my fertility treatments are going, that sudden phone static? Is a sign). Do not ask me why I am so bitter about this wedding, but I've felt this way throughout. Anyway.

I took my first B6 yesterday. Was supposed to take a second in the evening but I forgot. I'll take my second today, and maybe tomorrow (with my first tamoxifen!) I'll take two B6. Will report back on the CM results. We shall see.

Dinner Anyone?


They were supposed to be eating their lunch. Instead I come down and discover Nash naked and sprawled out on top of the kitchen table. Appetizing isn't it?

plz send rosaries kthxbai ~ovaries

PSA:
Apparently, according to the accumulated wisdom of my gracious commenters, you shouldn't take more than 200mg daily of vitamin B6 for an extended period. And if your doctor didn't mention that when he prescribed 500mg slow-release, you should ask why. I am going to plan on taking two 50mg tablets daily, one morning and one evening, starting on my next CD1.

It occurred to me that I should not drag all the innocent internetz into my internal spiritual musings. I should figure things out on my own and then present the interwebz with my rosy conclusions in a trite little package. And then I thought, DUDE, THIS IS THE INTERNET. There are some people from whom even the internet may deserve a filter.



But even I don't flatter myself that I'm that harmful, you know?

(Oh, by the way, I do realize this is potentially filter-able as just boring. You can go read someone else's post. I won't be hurt.) Like several other of the blogging gals, I've been thinking recently - well, since before I started the blog, actually, but that's kind of recent - that what I might need to adjust to is that God is not going to give me children. And then I just need to be OK with that. Of course, it makes me bitter and angry. Also bitter. And resentful. Did I mention bitter?

And then I was thinking. I'm not keen on the idea that IF is here to teach me a good lesson I would not otherwise have learned (I'm duly impressed when others say that and seem to mean it, but I just don't). Eighteen months of IF was a growth experience, OK? After that, there has been a diminishing rate of return. Rapidly diminishing. Nevertheless, the other day something occurred to me. I have mentioned this here before: mine is a judgmental God. Because I'm judgmental, obviously (on that Briggs-Meyers test thing, my "J" characteristic comes out well over 90%. I hear this is unusual). Which in turn is shaped in some substantial part by my relationship with my parents. Now, my judgmental God appears to be totally sufficient for a lot of purposes. I actually, intellectually, sincerely believe all of the moral theology I know, and intend to follow God's will because, in addition to the rules making sense, He's God and He makes the rules, and though I wouldn't make that argument to someone else (it's not very persuasive), absent the time and energy for a better one, it is persuasive to me.

I understand as part of this that God's will could include for me to suffer. You know, for good reasons. To expiate my own sins so I can get to heaven faster. To build my character toward virtue or in preparation for some important ordeal. To make reparation for the sins of others. To unite myself with the cross and thereby grow closer to Christ. Whatever works. I know - hey, I'm Catholic - that believing in God does not mean that I will be protected from suffering, or even from suffering the graceful acceptance of which is inconsistent with my personality. And of course, if I believed God were never going to do anything, or permit anything, that upset me, that would hardly represent any kind of spiritual maturity. So on the surface, my judgmental God is fine so far.

But.

As long as the sufferings were small, or temporary, or otherwise something of which I could make sense in my mind (say, according to the laws of nature, X or Y must happen to reach Z desirable result, and I see how the goodness of Z makes X or Y worthwhile), all this was fine. Obedience only was wanted, and I would be at peace. In other words, I didn't have to really trust anybody that much.

Enter infertility. This suffering is not small, it has not proven to be short-term, and it makes not the least earthly sense to me. What's necessary in order that I become a mother (the obvious goal for my current state in life) is that I conceive a child, and that's just exactly what hasn't happened. In other words, this is suffering that my brain - which has a decent grasp of delayed gratification, by the way - can't understand as anything but malign. But if I really trusted God - not to be right about everything, and therefore entitled to have me obey, but to love me more than I love myself and to want my real, actual good (not good in the sense that it will be "good for me," you'll see, it will be character-building and you'll thank me later, but working for my good in a way that I would actually be thankful for, and not grudgingly either, and this side of heaven) - well, then. In that case, I might be able to take the IF without (most of?) the bitterness. (Maybe.)

I have a problem trusting people - that is, with things that are very substantial and very high-risk. I'm not afraid that a friend will steal my car or anything. There are few for whom I would do something manifestly harmful on the assumption that, if they said it would result in good, then it would. But God? Forget about it. When I do, I do manifestly harmful things for His sake is if I'm sure it's He Who is asking (I am sure of this only very rarely, BTW - I don't go jumping off of things or taking up serpents or hearing voices), and because He is in charge, so, I'm supposed to.*
OF COURSE - and, believe me, I have always understood this - this is not the way a relationship with God is actually supposed to work. One is supposed to do things to please Him out of a sincere desire to make Him happy - out of love. I think you get moral credit for doing the right thing because you know it's the right thing, even if you have no enthusiasm for it whatsoever; but if you never have any enthusiasm for doing any good thing, I think that's a problem. St. Therese said that she could no longer suffer for penance because "even suffering is joy to me now." That doesn't mean I get to reject every cross that doesn't make me giddy. But it does indicate what a true trust in God makes of our crosses.

Later in the day on which I was pondering this, a thought tiptoed across my mind, just for a second: what if, instead of all the terribly, tragically inadequate things I could think of doing without children, God has planned for me something that I would love? Not out of obedience - because it's the right thing to train myself to like it because this is all I've got - but spontaneously and sincerely. For just one moment, I had an unspecific image of some future life that was joyful, that was really good for me and not in that take-your-medicine way, and for that moment I felt really happy. Then it vanished, and I was left wondering whether I was even making sense at all.

I have no idea, by the way. And even if I clarified that thought that I had, I don't know whether I'm healthy enough to achieve it. But it was an interesting thought. I will keep praying for trust, and try to get myself back to reading my daily prayer, which I have been conveniently forgetting far more than appropriate. Out of pique with God. Sigh. And I will wait, because that's what I do. Not patiently, but God can't have free-willed creatures and perfect ones too, and this is where I am.

I have to say, this corner of the internet is very patient with me and my aimless spiritual meanderings. Maybe soon I'll post about something happy. Like shoes.


*I recognize this appears to fly in the face of what I said earlier about my faith. I think this is the difference between intellect and temperament. I believe the truth of my faith, with the free assent of my will; I am convinced it's true. If I were not, I would go elsewhere for my principles. But as far as a personal relationship with God? Well, I think He's mean. I probably always have...because I'm cold-hearted myself. See?

Overachievers!

I learned in 9th grade seminary that discouragement comes from Satan. But I am not really sure that this is true. I am convinced that discouragement actually comes from having friends who are overachievers. I have been feeling a little discouragement, feeling a little underwhelmed with my talents and accomplishments. And the reality of this depressed feeling is all your fault. Actually, it is all my fault. I should have befriended some strung-out, ugly, smelly, illiterate, low life's and then maybe I would feel good about myself in comparison. Instead, I have you guys.

Let me explain. I seem to barely manage my life with two little boys. I am mediocre at lots of stuff but not great at anything. I am the typical jack of all trades, master of none. My friends on the other hand are writing books and quilting master pieces all while being pregnant with their fourth child. The possibility of me having a third baby scares me so bad I think I might vomit. I have friends who have their own photography and/or scrapbooking businesses. I have a friend who is an amazing artist/real estate agent/perfect mother and wife. I have friends who are financial gurus while I am still writing short checks. I have friends who are nutrition experts with a four year food supply hidden under their beds, while my children eat at McDonald's twice a week and have pop tarts for breakfast every morning and when those pop tarts run out so will our food supply. I have friends who sew their daughter's dresses and give crochet tutorials on their blogs, while I write about being a loser on mine. I have friends who are classically trained pianists, singers, dancers, and just generally entertaining. Today I was singing to Nash and he stuffed a super ball in my mouth exclaiming, "Shut your mouth, now!" I have friends who run marathons and are triathletes, while I am so impressed with myself after running my typical 2.5 miles that I reward myself with a brownie and a half a box of OREOS. I have friends who have enough self-control to stick to the most excruciating of diets and I still have a really hard time with the monthly fast. These are also the women who are cellulite free. Thanks a lot girls! I have friends who are career women and somehow make it look easy with their well-adjusted children. I have a BS in B.S.-you know Political Science, which I have never used while my friends are going to school and taking online classes. My continued education consists of re-reading Pride and Prejudice once a year. I have friends who teach their babies sign language, while the only sign language my kids know is how to flip someone off on the Beltway. I have friends who are hair stylists, while my inability to tame my own mop forced me to chop it off years ago. I have friends who are PTA presidents and chair political action committees all while cooking a gourmet meal for their husband and six children. I have friends so full of faith and virtue I am convinced that I am not Celestial Kingdom material if that is what I need to make it.

Anyway, I guess I have two choices. First, I could let you all know that we cannot be friends anymore because it is hurting my self esteem. Second, I could let you know how much I love and admire you for all of your hard work. I guess I will choose the latter. Thanks all you friends and relatives both near and far. What shining examples I have been given in my life! You help me become better and I feel truly blessed to know you all!

Progress!

Friday preschool ended and Atley's teacher gave us a compilation of Atley's artwork. When I looked at the first page which was a self-portrait Atley created the first week of school and I skipped to the last page which was a self portrait drawn the last week of school I couldn't help but smile. When Atley started school we could not get him to draw. He refused to color or paint or even use utensils. His pediatrician was as concerned as we were so she requested that he be tested for a developmental delay. After a summer of tests, or interviews as Atley called them, the results determined that Atley's Fine Motor Skills were significantly delayed and quoting from the report, "because of this individual's advanced intellectual development this delay in fine motor skills creates a significant educational disruption, causing extreme frustration and anger in the child when attempting to preform tasks with his hands and/or fingers." It was suggested that Atley undergo extensive occupational therapy in addition to creating an IEP or individualized education plan, which would follow him in a file throughout his educational career dubbing him as a special education student. Scott and I were hesitant to put this label on him at such a young age. What to do! I prayed a lot and finally, we decided to wait, forgo the occupational therapy and send him to a preschool that we felt good about. In April the doctor told me that he was no longer developmentally delayed but had in fact surpassed what was the "norm" for children his age. By the end of the school year he was voted the most artistic by his teachers. This is a child who wouldn't draw a circle in August. We are so proud of his improvements. We have made a shrine to his artwork and achievements in our basement. Good Job Buddy keep up the hard work!


Atley's Self-Portrait September 2008!


Atley's Self-Portrait May 2009!


Atley's Art Wall in Our Basement!

hello internet, please send advice

So I was all proud of my B6 that I got on sale. And then I went back to the part in my book where she says what to take exactly (yes, I am self-medicating. My RE didn't mention CM problems and I'm darned if I'm going to play phone tag for a week if I can fix this myself. ENOUGH DOCTORS ALREADY). It says I should take one 500mg slow-release capsule every day all cycle. I didn't get the slow-release, but, well, whatever. But, what I did get is FIFTY mg - not 500! Is it possible there's a typo in the book? What dosage were/are other people on? I don't suppose a 1/10 dosage will have any effect? Or, I could take 10 pills a day, spaced out over time (of course, then I'd need two more bottles for this cycle alone). Sigh.

Also, I am now (again) considering starting an IF support group at a local parish. I'd thought of it before but not really thought it through. I've returned to it. Right now, I also have a first draft written of a letter to a local pastor(s) just suggesting that they be aware of IF as an issue in their overall pastoral ministry, and offering to answer questions if that's helpful. And, noting that I'm thinking about proposing an IF support group, but as yet undecided, and would welcome their perspective. I feel as though, if I'm going to complain about ministry to the infertile, I need to put my money where my mouth is. If I can't even write one lousy letter, who am I to complain about what other people won't do? It's my condition, I ought to care.

And, also, though in many ways I deal with this whole thing worse than anybody I've encountered, my deeply flawed coping mechanisms do give me some advantages in going a little more public. I can deal with any number of pregnant bellies with only mild irritation, and nothing a stranger says would make me cry. Yelling is possible, of course, but I don't see anything wrong with that. So, internets, what do you think? I know Cara has done this. Anyone had success doing it within a church?

Other informations: tamoxifen actually isn't femara, as far as I know. This is tamoxifen:


And this is femara:


And this is clomid:


Clomid is actually VERY similar to tamoxifen, if you look (they're oriented differently, just spin them around in your head. Also, the C-H-H-H is written out for the clomid but indicated by just a line for the tamoxifen. It means the same thing. FIVE WHOLE SEMESTERS OF COLLEGE CHEMISTRY! LOOK WHAT I REMEMBER!). The only differences are that clomid has a chlorine as opposed to a two-carbon chain off that double bond - and that one has its chain off a different benzene ring than the other. That's actually kind of a big difference. (That other unconnected molecule next to the clomid is citrate, by the way. Yes, I looked that up.)

And, AYWH, I go to Tepeyac - probably a bit of a hike from you - but my RE was trained by H.ilgers and maybe yours was too? Also, I want to know ALL ABOUT your side effects. I'm going to have to email and pester you.

(I know I have other points to respond to. I am going to go through my last four sets of comments and send messages soon. I am a GOOD BLOGGER.)

drugs

In my drawer now sleep happily five days' worth of tamoxifen pills. In my basket of bathroom things is a bottle of B6 (bonus: it was on sale). I think I'm about five days from the end of my cycle. This is totally the JV version of IF drugs, but sort of a watershed for me, all at the same time. I'm mostly blase, but a little nervous, a little excited, a little trepidatious.

And, I'm definitely PMSy. I can feel a tight, un-unwindable knot of being difficult in the pit of my stomach. And even though I know just what it is, I have no intention of not being difficult. I want to take a nap, be hostile to others, maybe go somewhere and cry, or maybe have my husband all to myself. Not be flexible and pleasant. This is just how I'm going to be.

My friend who has the returning endo apparently got some really bad news at PPVI, but I heard the "details" from my husband, who heard them from her husband's cousin. Who is a confirmed bachelor. Needless to say, it's not clear to me what the actual problem is - something about her ovaries? (I know.) She was in Nebraska for a week. Please pray for her - apparently she's taken it kind of hard. I mean, obviously.

And, please pray for LIM and her family.

a weekend

Activities

It was really nice to see my sister. Though she's far more sarcastic even than yours truly, and has a lot of personality, she's always been very shy around new people. So, instead of planning a big party for Friday when she got in, on Friday, she and I walked around DC and saw some stuff she hadn't seen the last time. Then we had dinner at an Italian place in Arlington I hadn't been to before (food was great, service was strange-ish).

Saturday we went running on the trail I like so much. Then we went shopping - she needed new running shoes, which we found at I think a pretty good price, she came along for my weekly grocery shopping, and we got lunch at DQ. Then we came home and polished off a container of hummus while watching Fried Green Tomatoes - I own it, but she'd never seen it. But before we started the movie, reminded of many, many episodes sitting around watching a VHS tape in my mom's kitchen, we called my mom (who, as I've previously mentioned, is mentally unwell). It was a pretty good call. Sunday we went to Tridentine Mass - choir was lovely. I didn't plan anything rollicking to do; neither of us is a barfly, she's seen most of the tourist stuff, and I just thought we should spend time doing normal stuff, since she'll be headed to Poland for the summer in two weeks. We went to the National Zoo (I'd never been). It was shaping up to be kind of a disappointment - all the animals were in for the night or hiding. Luckily, the indigenous wildlife was filling in:


Ultimately, we did see some exhibits. The Mexican Wolves were probably the prettiest.


But my favorite were the pelicans. I've had some sort of thing with pelicans for years, but I don't think I'd ever seen them in "person." We even got to watch them being fed.


After the zoo closed, we went to Gravelly Point Park to watch the planes take off. Neither of us did all that well trying to capture the planes as they landed, but she probably did a better job.


I got a picture of the picture-takers.


IF Meditations

I also did some thinking. I realized a few things. I've been trying to think of better ways to pray about this IF mess. I realize I'm not half spiritually centered, and the IF has dislodged me - well, by pushing on a spot where the structure was weak to start with. On Saturday, I thought about how I should offer up the suffering of IVF for graces for others. It's been almost four years, I haven't done that...all those wasted graces. And I found myself unable to think of a restrictive clause strong enough to prevent God from taking my offering-up as a license to extend whatever time I would already have to spend infertile. (It's not that I can't make it through one more year. I don't know that it would bother me making it through 2009 [but maybe it would!], it's just that I don't want it extended one unnecessary day. Let alone unnecessary decades.) I finally said that I would offer it up today. I know I'm not going to get pregnant today. I can offer today. The problem is, it means I have to remember every day. But maybe I can get in the habit.

I realized that this means that, if what God thinks is best for me is that I suffer this way for years, then I am not open to that being His will. Isn't that interesting? Actually, it's slightly more complicated than that. It's that I think that God would "snap up" an unrestricted prayer like that, not because it's part of His grand design for my life and me getting to heaven, but as part of His overall posture of taking advantage of a vulnerable bargaining position to sock me with sufferings I really don't want. And that is an interesting realization too. Not open to offering things up to God because I don't trust Him not to stick it to me. Great.

Then I thought about how that wasn't right - the problem here is me. I'm supposed to embrace God's will even if it's hard. And I have no problem with that in theory. I've done it well on many occasions. Just not with this. The thing is - if God is going to take the babies away from me, He's going to give me something else instead - not by way of a consolation prize, but another way (and not a pointless way) to occupy my time and energy. So I should think about that.

Today, in Mass, I was praying about that. The goal: ask God to lead me toward, and show me, what it is He is asking of me instead (assuming there is an instead) - what it is He actually wants with my life. (I've already thought about how it might be adoption. Believe it or not, I am much less closed to adoption now, although I'd rather have biological children. But, learning more about the logistics of adoption, I think we'd never end up with a big family of adopted kids - and with our luck, we'd never get through the process on the first kid. So as soon as I decide adoption is something I want, God will jinx that one too. So I'm not pursuing that. If it falls into my lap, fine.)

You know what I realized? I'm not willing to ask God to lead me to what else He wants with my life. Not because there isn't anything else and He hit the delete key by accident and my life is purposeless (I say that, I fear that, but I think I just realized I might not believe that). Because if He's asking of me something other than raising a family, I know it's going to be something really demanding and I'm going to want to run screaming. It won't be something I want anything to do with. I don't have a specific idea in mind, just a strong sense of formless unpleasantness.

Isn't that interesting - I don't trust God not to give me a raw deal just because He can. And after all this time - discerning a vocation, getting married, everything - I'm not interested in hearing the plans God has for my life. In the short-term, impulse-motivation sense, I'd rather keep wandering around blind than have to do something hard or undesirable.

Now, I don't want not to want these things. I mean, I recognize those inclinations are defects, and I don't like having defects. But I'm not ready to pray, "God, lead me to the thing you've asked of me instead." It's not a prayer I want answered right now. For now, I'd rather be angry about IF than have to take a(nother) big risk. "Help me to find my way" I've been praying for months, but the other one is a little too specific. I think I have to start a few steps back, maybe - "Help me to want the right things." Or, "Help me to trust you." Maybe that's the simplest one of all. That would be OK - that's a prayer I'd like answered. It's general. It's benign.

I also realized about myself, that what I really want out of this whole IF mess is not a baby. Baby would be OK. But what I want more than a baby is a life that an objectively reasonable person would not feel sorry for. Not the talk of the town or the envy of everyone. Not a life without hardship or suffering. Not an un-difficult life. Not fame or accomplishment. But a life that someone acquainted with what I'm up to and what I value would look at and say, "She got a chance to do something valuable. She's living a good life." Even if they recognized that I couldn't have kids and would have wanted to. But not "How sad that she doesn't have any kids." Or "It's nice that she's finding things to fill in the hole where the kids would be." Or "I'm so glad I've been able to have kids, look at those childless couples." Or, "How empty her life is. We should pray for her." Or, "Look at how superficial the things are that you take on when you can't have what really matters - a family." Or, "Look at the frenzy she's throwing at all her other activities - like if she works hard enough, she won't remember she doesn't have kids."

I'm not trying to be superficial; I don't mean that actual people have to approve of my life. Many actual people probably will not and I can ignore them. I mean that it would be reasonable for a theoretical person to conclude that my life is valuable. That's what I actually want. Not to be a reject from the scrap heap of meaning and direction and vocation.

Treatment

I don't know how this squares with my filling my prescription for tamoxifen, but I'm going to.

And, BTW, you'll all be happy to know that I did ovulate this month - fairly timely, too. But my CM was totally screwed up - that's why I was confused. (Good thing I'm doing temps!) Has anyone else ever had screwed-up CM as a result of HSGs and the like? It seems logical, but my book and Dr. Google have never heard of it.

Also, is it true that tamoxifen causes CM to dry up? And if so, why didn't my RE mention this when I specifically asked? Any reason I shouldn't go get some B6 to take as well?

Thanks interwebz. Sleep tight...

Atley's 5

Last week while making our daily trek to preschool Atley says the following, "So, mom let's finalize my birthday plans." He really wanted a pool party but our pool temperature is still 65 degrees and I am not ready to take responsibility for ten 5 year olds in a pool that reaches depths of 10 feet. So, that option was out. Not to worry Atley came up with another plan without too much difficulty. Here are some pictures of Atley's 3 day birthday extravaganza!

It all began on Thursday the 21st, the day before Atley's actual birthday. First, shark inspired cupcakes had to be brought to all of his classmates and teachers at preschool!


After preschool he decided that I should take him to his favorite toy store in Alexandria and that we should then eat some ice cream by the river while we watched the boats.


That night he chose to go to the Cheesecake Factory for dinner! What can I say the kid has great taste! Although we are a little nervous about what he is going to ask for when he is sixteen, he is already breaking the bank! Do I need to mention that Nash also enjoyed Atley's Cheesecake Factory choice.


On Friday, the real birthday, Atley enjoyed a breakfast of left over cheesecake then headed to his last day of preschool where he enjoyed an ice cream party. Needless to say he was a little hyper when we put him in the car to head to Williamsburg and the Great Wolf Lodge. When we arrived at the hotel Atley knew just which room was ours, because of the birthday banner on the door.


The hotel room was great, complete with a kiddie kamp for the boys! We were happy that Nash only fell off the top bunk once and sustained only minor injuries. Atley and Nash would have been content just playing in their fort but the fun was just beginning!




Brithday Cake & Presents! Atley got a new bike from Granny and Nash enjoyed the birthday hat most of all!






Great Wolf Lodge has an incredible indoor water park. The boys had a blast Friday and Saturday playing in the wave pool, sliding on the slides, and just being wet.


Friday night there was a show in the lobby followed by story time for the kiddos. Saturday the boys designed their own CROCS (shoes) at the hotel and then we headed to Wal-Mart so that Atley could spend the birthday money that was burning a hole in his pocket. Thank you to everyone who helped make Atley's birthday so special and so memorable. We can't believe our baby is five year's old. This birthday was harder for me to handle than when I turned thirty. He is growing so fast. We love him so much and we pray that we can keep up with him!

idling along

I had some other things I was going to post about, but I reminded myself I would be a good blogger and try to give a serious answer to a fair question (below). But I'm tuckered out by my own seriousness. So, I wanted to share. First of all, "infertilitees" comes so trippingly off the tongue that I'm sure someone else has thought of it and I've read it before. Actually, that's true. I've seen other bloggers post something similar. But I wanted to make my own contribution to the canon. Here's one; I have another I've done too that I'll post later.

(If you want to make one of your own, I find that for image capture purposes, at least, the best version to use is this one. As far as t-shirt quality - couldn't tell you.)

Also, I'm clearly losing the contest for the weirdest cycle this month. But no fertile phase after waaaay more days than it usually takes me to ovulate and then a rise in temperature (or, so it appears so far...verdict in a few more days) without having had a fertile phase, well, that's some strange stuff. At least for me it is. I'm starting to think my cycle will never come back, and then what will I do with this prescription for tamoxifen? That I still need to fill. Oops.

And then, let's see...there was a question about my friend with the impending second endo surgery: did Dr. Hi.lgers perform the first one? I thought yes, but DH says no. I would be mad about having more surgery so soon either way, but there you have it: don't know.

Rounding off this grab bag of notions, my baby sister (well, the 25yo) is visiting this weekend. She's in town for a conference. We've gone to see the Capitol but not the White House, so we'll do that, and I'll take her to Tridentine Mass on the Feast of the Ascension (which was today, but I digress), and go shopping, and she'll be coming with me to see my house (which I've mentioned before, I think. I've decided it must be mine. Except, I've never seen the inside. And I probably can't afford it). I talked to the realtor yesterday (for the first time) and asked to view it this weekend - surely, this was a guaranteed yes - and he said that he couldn't do that, but maybe in the ensuing week. Weird.

I told him I'd call him back another time when I was ready to see it - wanted to see it with my sister, so no dice for next week. Also, bad news: looks like the (elderly) owners are trying to sell all three "lots" (seriously, this is one decent-sized lot, whatever genius thinks it should be subdivided is cracked), for which they want over $1M. Half an acre with a falling-down house. It's not in Georgetown, BTW. This is just silly. But we're still going to go visit and skulk around the outside. And whatever other fun things we come up with to do.

I might not, however, keep up religiously on blogs. My sister doesn't know about the blogging; the only person who does is my DH, who respects my privacy here. I think anyone else would be too tempted to try to "find" me. (I feel safe from accidental finding - the only people looking would be other IFers, sooo...) I'm close to my sister, and I do trust her. But, she's my little sister. I don't lean on her. And I can't tell her that I'm just a wreck over this IF thing. I don't know why, I just know it wouldn't work. There's really no one in my family - other than my DH, no one in the world - on whom I really lean. I can't. They're just not...lean-able. I've known them my whole life.

That's sort of weird, huh?

being Catholic

I'm right out here with the truth in labeling, y'all. If you're not interested, you have been duly warned!

However. Leah asked a question about what I really think in terms of moral theology (OK, she didn't put it that way), and I have not forgotten! At first, I thought, why would she ask that question? Surely if it weren't inherently obvious, my SA post would have made it all ABUNDANTLY clear. Then I read my SA post again.

Oh.

So I am going to try, so so hard, to be concise but still clear. And I think this answer is in three parts, plus an application bit:

1. Why do I talk (write) like this?

This is what I figured out when I re-read my SA post. I'm going to try to explain this without making any unwarranted assumptions about how other people think. But the thing about Catholicism is, it's got strong elements of a culture, and even stronger elements of being a coherent theory. I am sure there are other groupings that have this too. (I'm thinking any hierarchical church would - I bet Mormons do? And probably non-religious groups as well.) This is super-handy, but in a way that causes the problem in my post. Namely: there's a whole lot of theory out there. And that's just what I know. It's at least standardized, if not normative. I.e., you can look it up. There are theologians who will argue about this and that, and any individual Catholic may choose to take or leave any part of it (normatively it's an all or nothing proposition, I'm just saying that's what people do). I can't fit all that even I know about Catholic, well, stuff, into every post. Or a book. Several books. And I'm not an expert.

Fortunately for everyone innocently surfing the web, it wouldn't occur to me to try, because I tend to simply communicate as if everyone had about the same assumptions that I have, or meant about the same things by the same words. Rationally, I know this is not true. So where I'm aware of differences - I've learned that the Catholic approach is distinctive - I'll try to point that out. Sometimes, I think my approach is distinctive when it is not. So I put caveats with things that don't need them. But I think there are lots of distinctive bits that escape my notice, so I end up saying things that don't make total sense to other people.

Which brings me to...

2. Procedure

Now I'm invoking lawyer-speak. Out of the frying pan, you know...

Anyway, Leah's question was, I think, what I really believe, deep down, as opposed to what the Church teaches. I'm thinking that as a neutral observer, if I heard someone cite an external authority all the time for definitive opinions, I would think that person couldn't think for himself. Which I'm guessing is the impression I give. It's not how I see it, though. This is where the procedural part comes in.

I was baptized Catholic, but "lapsed" in my teens, then returned to going to church on Sunday, then went to college and continued - but grossly undereducated about my faith. It's always struck me as odd - and I've taught confirmation classes and supervised high school youth group - that kids who are expected to learn calculus and read Shakespeare are considered too tender to learn the definition of sin, or the teaching on the Trinity, or the tradition of Catholic mystics. I think most Catholic twelfth-graders know more about Buddhism than Catholicism, and how can you make a mature decision about the faith in which you were raised when you don't know even the most basic things about it?

At any rate, I was no exception. My parents knew a pretty decent amount of theology, but somehow this didn't all make it to me. I was basically committed to most of what I did understand - but even that I didn't try very often to apply to my life. A good friend pointed out at one point that if I believed what I myself claimed to believe, then my life ought, logically, to look a little different. I gave this some thought, and realized it was true. I was living a schizophrenic life. There began a long period of soul-searching, tons of reading, prayer, and a lot of thinking. I came conscientiously and informedly to the realization that I did, in fact, believe what I had been saying I believed. Among other things, I believed that the Catholic Church was in fact institutionally entrusted with proclaiming the truth on matters of faith and morals. If this was true, it followed that any individual thing the Church proclaimed authoritatively (see here on magisterium) as teaching was true. Certainly a handy reference point for new moral questions.

3. Substance

Of course, being an adult Catholic also requires being an adult, period (though many, Catholic and non-Catholic, appear to regard this step as optional). Parroting the teachings of the Church mindlessly won't get you very far, for at least two reasons: first of all, principles don't always translate automatically into decisions on actual events in your life. You generally have to extrapolate (although some things are pretty clear). Second, if you make no effort to understand and own an idea, it's not really a conviction, per se. I think morals and faith have to be the conviction of your heart. Which means they have to be examined, weighed, pondered, lived in, and made your own. Stridency is only a substitute for sincerity in the very young - and I know whereof I speak, because I did that, too.

I was fortunate enough to have in my path a lot of writing and information on a lot of Catholic moral principles before I actually had to apply them, so a lot of the moral questions that would affect - say - fertility and fertility treatment, were comfortably broken in by the time I started down this path. What this also means is that in addition to having faith in the Church institutionally, I also agree specifically with the teachings I actually know about, and confront and use in my life. They make sense to me, I think I understand their implications, and they seem to me to proceed necessarily from first principles that I believe are solid.

4. So what's the bottom line?

The three above points do, believe it or not, tie in together. Because I believe that Church teaching is actually the truth, I have a bad habit of speaking and writing as if everyone else thought just the same way. So in a given sentence, I'll interchangeably say that "the moral quality of an act depends on intention, nature, and circumstances," and "the Church teaches that subjective culpability can be mitigated even if an action is objectively gravely wrong." I'm actually invoking the same degree of authority with both of those statements - I'm quoting even in the first one, and I'm agreeing even in the second one.

What about when I said that the Church's analysis is insufficient if it takes into account only openness to life in evaluating the moral quality of particular conduct as part of fertility treatment? Well, admittedly, that was a straw man, because that's not the only factor cited even in widely-quoted documents - see, for example, Donum Vitae and IVF (openness to life is not the deciding factor).

And, I don't disagree with the importance of openness to life. In fact, and despite my complaining, I'd probably have poked a hole in the condom myself if I hadn't been told there was already one there; although the gesture is symbolic, in my case, I think symbolism can be important. What my complaint was about, instead (well, other than just venting), was that the Church tends not to provide any further guidance. Now, silence isn't teaching. So it's not that I don't agree. I just think that parish priests have a pastoral responsibility to reach out especially to their parishioners who suffer most greatly, and especially to those most in need of moral guidance. And as far as I can see, they're not. "Don't use IVF" is not comprehensive pastoral care for the infertile. First of all, nobody ever explains why. The theory on IVF is never cited or explained; Donum Vitae is never read or named; and IVF is never addressed as if it were a treatment being prescribed to actual Catholics, including some sitting right in the pews right now! When it is. And, if pastors want their parishioners to avoid it, then they could start by explaining why.

Moreover, even if the obedient parishioner immediately whips out the ol' crackberry to type, Note to self: Should I be unable to conceive, do not use IVF, I just think that's inadequate. OK, me: I don't use IVF. Somehow, my travails aren't over. There's actually more questions out there. And some of them have moral aspects! Shocking.

I'm not suggesting the Church should bury all its members in norms when norms aren't needed. I'm not asking for an encyclical that says I may only visit an RE whose last name begins with an "X" and who can recite the Magnificat in Latin backward standing on one foot. I'm saying that beyond the realm of absolute norms - which I think are pretty close to covered in the IF world - there are many questions that require sensitivity and sound judgment. Some guidance, or even acknowledgment that the issues exist, would be appreciated.

Which brings me to the real culprit here: me. You see, I'm so used to having to dig in my heels and defend what I believe - I was steeling myself for the conversation with the clinic: No, we are not "providing" the sample on-site. We don't do that sort of thing. I don't care if it's more convenient for you. Our faith is important to us, and I have to ask you to respect that - that I'm totally unprepared for problems that come from elsewhere. The condom thing respects all the right boundaries, in theory. So it did not occur to me to tell my (Catholic) RE, Hey, wait. This is frankly grotesque. So what else have you got for me? Because we're not a couple of sex monkeys here, and I refused to be any further dehumanized by my treatment. In fairness (to me!), I have no experience with condoms, and the implications weren't entirely clear until I was presented with them concretely.

But I've learned an important lesson, a lesson that those of you who don't have the blessing/crutch of a church teaching authority probably learned early in the process: I need to keep my brain on "on" at all times during this process, and think carefully about what I really want to be doing. As many of you wisely suggested in the comments, even if my confessor wouldn't bat an eye, I need to say something if I think a particular treatment would be wrong for me and my marriage.

I got better



So, I shall not dwell in the hellish Land of the Sperm Analysis forever. (I know, you were worried.) I appreciate all your kind words and wise advice (seriously, some of the suggestions made so much sense. I need to go back and take basic physics. And maybe biology. Or one of those X-rated courses they were always offering in college under the heading of "sociology." Anything with "sexualities" in the title was good for at least a few nudie photographs. On that subject, sort of, I have some VERY Catholic friends who on their honeymoon, despite not being, er, novices [you know, they were reformed], were having such a difficult go of things that they went to the store and bought a how-to book. And not the "for Dummies" one, I believe, something with pictures).

Also enormously reassuring is that even people who are not working from quite the same framework I am found this whole ordeal awful as well. Why does that make me feel better? Maybe for kind of the same reason it's so nice to have other people with whom to go through infertility...it makes me feel human, when IF often inclines me not to.

Also good for dredging one from the depths of the Lake of Spermlessness is a sense of humor. Fortunately, my husband has one. When I came home yesterday, I told him how traumatized I was and that I may never want to (try to) have sex again, and he laughed at me for being a prude, and, honestly, I felt better. If he'd fetched out a crucifix and the holy water (we have some, actually), I'd have been pretty worried.

There is, after all, an appropriate role for sperm.


Frankly, my DH had a worse day than I did. Our elderly neighbors have a beautiful rose garden - I mean, magnificent. Over seventy individual rose bushes, dozens of varieties. All now in bloom. And the ladies from the wife's art group were at her home for their regular meeting, so they held it in the rose garden. My DH was sitting on our patio having a cup of coffee, and a gaggle of grandmothers were wandering around the garden, oohing and ahing in the most or.gasmic of tones, and the mockery was more than he could take. He said he barely restrained himself from marching over there and doing in the whole lot of them. (This shared inclination toward sudden violence is what makes us SOUL MATES.)

So we were at home yesterday evening discussing our recent traumatic experiences, when he suddenly called over from our room, "Should I throw out these condoms next to the bed?" GROSS. Ten hours after the fact, we still had condoms strewn about our bedroom like the scene of some junior high incompetently attempted contraceptive orgy. "No," I replied, "I'm making a scrapbook of our journey to have a baby, and I'm going to stick them to one of the pages." He emerged from our room. "Hey, that's a really good idea."

Seriously?

rotten

Sperm Day was a total bust. Without OD'ing on the TMI, let's just say, condoms - not so hot. At all. I think I wrecked two of them (they appeared to be fused together, however. Surely that's not how it's supposed to work?), no sample, no nothing, and my DH was kind enough to drive me to work so I wouldn't be later than my leave slip said for the appointment we cancelled, but we were barely speaking. I get that this would be, at least, more straightforward if we collected the stupid sample in the "ordinary" way. But neither of us is cool with that. Fidelity to our marriage means no dirty pictures and no "individual activities." And to break that commitment to have some lab poke and prod us further seems even more disordered and wrong than it would be by reason of temptation, or weakness, or anything else. My God, we're human beings. We're supposed to have some sort of dignity. What a crock that is.

Meanwhile - and I would be genuinely interested to hear the reactions of others who've done this already - the collection method that's kosher with the Church seems almost more wrong, if that were possible. I suppose this could be sour grapes because it didn't go so hot for us, but first of all, we're not the only ones (more on that later), and second, I think there are good reasons it didn't work. How, I ask you, are the unitive and procreative aspects united by engaging in some parody of sex just to fiddle with a stupid condom and hightail it to a lab with a jar of sperm in one hand? What's loving and unifying about that? And the stock response (which I do not want to hear) is that it's ultimately ordered to a baby. Well, lots of things are ultimately ordered to a baby, including IVF, turkey basters full of sperm, and abduction, just off the top of my head. The Church isn't cool with those, because while necessary to the moral equation, the ultimate ends do not justify any means. The means itself has to be morally acceptable before the importance of the end can outweigh any other drawbacks of the means. (I think this mode of analysis crosses religious lines. At least, it sounds like good common sense to me. It's when we get to specifics that it becomes specifically Catholic. If you follow.)

Which brings me to another point. The whole unroll-a-condom-in-a-jar-with-a-popsicle-stick method is supposed to be kosher because it's open to life. I get how, the condom having holes in it, the method is open to life. That does sound like an extreme legalism - honestly, I'm not going to get pregnant without the condom, so the holes are kind of angels on the head of a pin, you know? But not having the holes wouldn't solve the real problem I'm positing, which is this: since when did openness to life become the only moral norm worth considering? I mean, I could have sex with someone else's husband, and be totally open to life. Obviously, that wouldn't cut it. So there has to be a further analysis before we can determine whether something is morally ordered. I would say that the with-condom sperm collection activity is bordering on morally disordered by its very nature. How many professionals do we need to have giving directions, and then making post-hoc commentary, on the activity in our bedroom? How many devices should be implemented so we can have sex? (We had three at hand - one condom, one collection cup, and a ruler to turn the darn thing inside out. And eleven-step instructions.) At what point have you crossed the line from a loving marital sexual relationship into some other kind of activity entirely, which could best be described as deviant?

I know I said I would be brave. Even increasing, beyond my hoped-for lifetime maximum of one, the number of men who would closely examine my reproductive organs. Even though a lot of the procedures were painful. Even though I hate taking time off for procedures I am uncomfortable naming to my boss. Even though I am sick to death of doctors. But this isn't brave in the face of embarassment or pain. This is our marriage this garbage is marching into. And it's not right.

After I left for work (to react with rage to the slightest provocation at any inconvenience in my projects, I might add), my DH called a friend of ours who's down in Nebraska at Pope Paul VI Institute right now. She had the crazy-thorough endo removal surgery about 18 months ago. She got married just over a year ago. She knew she had Stage IV endo, so they got on the ball with fertility treatment immediately. They've been ttc, obviously. She's not pregnant. PPVI has reviewed her charts. She went down for - whatever, a consult? They found out the endo has all come raging back and she needs another surgery. (Which is going to be effective where the last one wasn't because...?) They're out of pocket $8k for this visit. Not counting the surgery. Not counting the adoption fees they will pay, because if her idiot doctors can't stop cutting her open long enough to treat her, they will never get pregnant.

She ran into a third mutual friend down there, also in town for treatment (no, none of these people lives in or even near Nebraska). This gal (who's like 24, BTW), isn't even ovulating. H.ilgers doesn't even know why. He suspects it's "something in her brain," says DH - I believe the hypothalamus controls ovulation, so that could be. Now she may have an OB/GYN (granted, a darn good one) messing with her brain. This is why I preserve the option to have a hysterectomy and fax the lot of the medical profession the bird when I have had enough. (Which may be today.) Meanwhile, we've heard from another couple who are ttc (the wife also has endo) who tried the whole sperm/condom method and just couldn't bring themselves to do it. I don't know whether they pulled it off on a later try. The gal with the recurrent endo and her husband also had a bust their first time; so the second time, they rented a hotel room next to the clinic. Apparently that time worked. (I originally assumed they meant that the first try didn't work for them because the sample didn't survive that long, but now, I suspect that was not the reason. Anyway, I don't think there are hotels next to our clinic. And this is NOT romantic and I am NOT spending money on a hotel in suburban Northern Virginia and taking an entire day off from work for this BS and the clinic opens at 10 and we'd have to check out within minutes of "collecting the sample" - like that would be any less stressful and unnatural - and I am going to RIP SOMEONE'S HEAD FROM HIS SHOULDERS. ANY MINUTE NOW.)

Finally, lowly has a charming quote from St. Josemaria on her blog about how "God is asking more" from the infertile [N.B.: This is not directed at lowly, as I hope will become clear...]. I think that's the sort of darling platitude that one can utter with confidence only if one has never been there, but I will tell you all, since you're burning up with curiosity, what God is asking of me. To be a good and virtuous and loving and pure Catholic woman and wife, and, should any babies ever show up on my doorstep, delivered by some exotic bird, a good mother. I do my best not to swear. I dress modestly. I don't spend money excessively on anything (except fertility treatment). I need to pray more and get up early enough to go to daily Mass in English. I need to be kinder and less self-centered, and less angry (HAH!). I need to put my DH first more than I do. I need to call people back, even when I don't want to talk to them. I do not need to learn to have sex with a condom, perforated or otherwise, on a schedule with a stupid clinic with stupid hours. If that's the "more" God is asking of me, He's cracked. Motherhood is a vocation, not some sort of grotesque contortion.

In other words, St. Josemaria, if you're listening, you're completely full of crap. Or, you were - I bet you know better now. And thanks a lot on that job my husband prayed a novena for. He's now been unemployed for four months. That's helping a lot, too.

P.S. I'm slightly less mad now, and considering apologizing to St. Josemaria, about the job part anyway, on the basis that God might have something better in store. I still think the IF quote is shortsighted. If the Church wants to honor IF as an additional cross, then she and her priests need to take on some pastoral responsibility for the infertile. 'Cause as of right now, we're completely on our own ('cept no AI or IVF. Now we know what we can't do. What else you got for us?).

3 Posts for the Price of 1

Warning: This post is not terribly exciting, just a recap, mostly in pictures, of the events of the past week.

1.In an attempt to cure Nash of his obsessive compulsive tendencies I bought a truck load of finger paint this week. He has issues with being sticky and/or wet. I thought finger paints might be a fun way to get him sticky and wet in a good way. He actually had a great time. Atley painted the birdhouse he made in preschool, notice the adorable Home Depot Smock that his teacher gave him for being so artistic. You will also notice in the pictures that I painted my walls, orange or marmalade as Atley likes to call it.




2. Atley's preschool has a club called PRO. This acronym stands for Preschoolers Reaching Out. They meet once a month and do some type of service. This week the children got together and learned some songs to preform at the nursing home near the school. Atley and Nash are the only boys involved in PRO and the only kids who actually sang at the nursing home. Everyone else was a little weirded out by the old people. My boys are fortunate enough to have so many great-grandparents still alive-old people don't freak them out too much. I have to say, I think they stole the show, especially when Nash flashed the crowd in the middle of one number happily exclaiming, "Hey, look at my tummy!"





3. Saturday we went to the Department of Defense Airshow at Andrews Airforce Base. It was exciting and exhausting. We were able to look at and walk through tons of cool Airforce and Navy jets and helicopters, including the Memphis Belle, some of the Presidential Aircraft and Atley's favorite plane the L-1011. The Thunderbirds performed and the noise was deafening especially to Nash who told us how much his eyes hurt when the planes flew over. He seems to get his eyes and ears mixed up on occassion. It was a fun day, for my two little aviation fanatics.