Hard Days

Before kids, I had no idea it was possible to be blissfully happy and absolutely exhausted and miserable at the exact same time. I have (almost) everything I ever wanted: kids, the career I always dreamed of, a nice house, enough money to travel, and I am so very thankful.  There's not a day goes by that I'm not struck at least once by how much I love my boys and how lucky I am to have them.

But this shit is fucking hard.

I am tired, all the time. I'm more grumpy with my kids than I should be.  My neck and shoulders and back hurt constantly, and so even though I'm getting to bed most nights in time to get at least 7 hours of sleep, I never get a good solid sleep because I hurt. And I end up with a 4-5 day migraine at least once a month. I weigh 15 pounds more than I should.  I hate my hair color. Work politics suck, and I'm not doing a good enough job at keeping afloat with the basics of patient care to be able to be as vocal as I want to be about those issues. I frequently forget to pay a bill or return patient messages or friend's phone calls or to wish someone important a happy birthday or to actually let the people who are important to me know that I'm thinking of them with a text or an email or a phone call because oh my gosh I'm just too tired to even try.

I get home at night and have a few hours with my kids with dinner, a little playtime and then it's time to get ready for bed. Once the kids are in bed I have an average of 90 minutes to do everything else I need to do - walk the dog, do laundry, wash dishes, prepare meal plans, pay bills (why can't everyone allow autopay?), reply to emails - and there's never enough time, so the things I want to do - catch up with friends, edit pictures, watch tv, read a book, write a blog entry, comment on blogs - never get done.

Most surprising to me is how lonely I am.  I have really good friends both locally and far away, I have support when I need it, and yet I'm still alone a lot.  And I know I could ease some of that loneliness by reaching out...but then there's that whole pesky exhaustion and lack of time thing getting in the way again.

It's at this point that I'm sure someone out there wants to tell me to stop my whining, adding: "you asked for this!"

I did.  And I'd do it all over again.  But it is hard in ways that I never could have imagined.

And right now, something has to give.  There's a lot in life right now that I can't change.  But I am going to work on taking better care of myself physically.  I made an appointment with my family doctor to get a physical to make sure that there's no unsuspected health issue going on. I am going to call tomorrow to make an appointment for a massage, and then book every other week massages until my neck and shoulder pain is significantly better. I hate taking extra time away from my kids, but this is something I have to do. I made an appointment (for the end of March, the earliest my schedule will allow) to see someone new to fix my hair color - that won't make my body feel any better, but it sure will make me feel better every time I look in the mirror.

I'm also going to make the time to blog more often.  Even if no one is still reading, it feels good to get everything down in writing.  I'll try not to complain quite so much next time.

Closing a Chapter

I went out of town for work on Friday and didn't get home until after the boys were asleep last night. At bedtime tonight, I had a moment's hesitation as I made Zachary's bottle. Was I really prepared to give him a bottle instead of offering him the breast?  Was I really going to do this?

I reminded myself that he probably hasn't been getting much as it is; I'm back to wearing my pre-pregnancy bras, Thursday night AF decided to come back for a visit after a very welcome 2 year absence, and (most telling) after two nights of not breast feeding, I'm feeling not even the slightest hint of discomfort.

And so I gave him his bottle and then held him close to me for a few minutes after he'd finished, and sobbed the entire time.  Zachary didn't seem to notice, and certainly didn't ask to nurse. Though he did pat my back when I held him to me before putting him in his crib, which made me cry even more.

I'm not sad because I loved nursing so much - instead it's just the fact that this is the end of a chapter in our lives.  And endings always make me sad.  Especially an ending like this.  Because if I were married, I wouldn't be ending this chapter just yet.  I've always wanted a big family and always imagined having 3 or 4 kids, if not more. As a single mom, I'm not sure I even really truly want 3 kids, but I keep thinking of my embryo in storage. I look at Zachary and think about that embryo and wonder if it's possible that embryo could be a kid that's as spectacular as he is, and then feel the ache of not knowing this child, too.  

I know that two kids is all I can realistically handle on my own.  I can't imagine how on earth I'd handle the demands of 3 young children and my job. I'm not sure where I'd put a third child in my house.  And looking forward, I have plans to travel with the boys when they're older.  And that would be just about impossible, both logistically and financially.

And so this day, the end of breastfeeding my younger child, is also when I am facing the reality that our family is complete, and that there will be no more pregnancies, no more snuggly newborns and no more lazy nursing sessions with a fuzzy headed little body.

It's also the day I get my body back.

And it's also the day I wrote a check to my clinic for another year's storage for my remaining little embryo.

Apparently I can't quite let go.  Not just yet.

Ouch.

Nanny M got married tonight.  It was a beautiful, simple ceremony at her mom's house, outside in the crisp fall air.  I didn't really know anyone, but Finn knows her immediate family well, and calls NannyM's mom NannyMaw.  Both her family and the groom's family were absolutely lovely, making a point of saying hi, talking to the boys, helping out when I needed it.  If her new husband's family is any indication, she married a good one.

wedding selfie

Weddings are always a little hard for me.  Much like baby showers were until a few years ago, they are a harsh reminder of what I don't have.  The wedding itself passed in a blur of me trying to keep two boys quiet, and then immediately after the wedding, Finn ran and played with the other kids while I held Zachary, made small talk now and then, and ate some food.  I felt alone, but not horribly awkward.

And then the dancing started.  The first song was of course the bride and groom.  I stood there in the dark, watching, and felt those usual wedding thoughts enter my mind.  Why haven't I ever met anyone that loves me enough to want to marry me?  Or that I love enough to want to marry? Am I that unloveable?

And then Finn came running up to me.  "Has the dance party started yet, Mommy?"  "No, Finn, not yet, there are a few dances first that we just watch."  "Let's not watch! Dance with me, Mommy."

So there in the grass, off to the side and in the dark, we danced, my two boys and I.  While they don't fill that desire to find a partner someday, they do very much make my heart full and whole.

If they story ended there, it would be lovely and sweet.  But then it was time to go. At the car, Finn burst into tears.  "I'm sad, I want to stay!"  I handled that fairly well, and he was happy by the time I was buckling him in and he was cheerful the drive home.  I'd considered driving around until he relaxed enough to fall asleep, but decided I was too tired to do that, so we came straight home.

During bedtime routine, the meltdowns started.  He'd calm down from one and another would start.  I could have dealt with the meltdowns if they were just about going back to the wedding.  But these were more.  "I want to go back to NannyMaw's house.  I don't like this house.  I don't want to stay here.  I want to go stay at NannyMaw's."

I know he was exhausted, but this is not the first time he's said he doesn't like this house. That makes me so sad, as I love this house and want him to be happy here and love it, too.  He's three, I'm sure it will come, and it may not even be that he doesn't really like this house.  But on the heels of an event that already makes me emotionally vulnerable, it sure hurts.

Getting Organized

There were all sorts of great suggestions for ways to make dinner on my post about trying to cook more at home a few weeks ago (and Obernon shared what sounds like a yummy recipe on her blog last week).  I'm starting to believe I can make family dinner a priority and get some healthy meals on the table most nights. I've already got a few recipes in mind to share in the next few weeks (though I could always use more!) I'm really looking forward to putting those posts together.

I'm trying to come up with a way that works for me to plan meals ahead of time and to stay organized with groceries.  I can order my groceries online and pick them up at my local grocery store, but I need to pick a day to do that routinely, and then have the next week's menu planned in advance so I can do just one grocery run a week.

This has led me to realize that this is going to be a central theme for my life over the next few years: being organized.  It's not something I'm naturally good at, but I'm going to have to do it.  This past year was just crazy and stressful and often miserable, and while I won't have the perfect storm of events piling up together all at once like I did this year, I will have two kids to deal with instead of one.  And I want to be sure I enjoy them.  The only way I can see that happening is if I schedule my days of the week - laundry days, blog days, catch up on work days, meal planning days and grocery days are going to become a necessity.  As is picking out my clothes for the week ahead of time (I waste so much time in the morning picking out clothes, because invariably something I thought was clean isn't).

I've tried to do this before, with variable success at sticking to it.  But it's pretty clear I don't have a choice now, not if I want to find a way to enjoy myself while juggling the roles of mommy and doctor. The problem is, I have yet to find an organizing method that works for me - I need something simple that is easy to reference.  Should I go the old fashioned route and use a daily planner?  Is there an app you use that you find works well?  Suggestions are welcome!
 

*****

Here are the week's pictures - you'll notice there are less sleeping pictures this time!  I'd like to also mention that in the past week, while being more awake during the day, Zachary has also given me several nights of 4 straight hours of sleep, and even one night of 5 hours.  Unfortunately, that was followed by a night of every 2 hour feedings, but at least there's progress!

Almost forgot! We saw the GI doctor last week, and he's not too worried about Zachary's liver.  He did want to draw some labs, but the lab couldn't get any blood from him.  It's on my list of things to do this week, to call the doctor back and find out if he really wants those labs, or if we can just let it go.

4/16/14: all smiles at his GI appointment

4/17/14: this picture just melts my heart.  I hope they still like each other this much in a few years!

4/18/14: "I have more aunts than you!"

4/19/14: happy baby, just hanging out

4/20/14: Happy Easter!  His big brother wore this bib for his first Easter, too.

4/21/14: imagine world peeps (big brother and I have matching shirts)

4/22/14: second time this month I've taken a picture of him asleep on my bed in these pjs.  

Toddler and Mommy Meltdowns

Finn is usually a pretty easy going kid, but this weekend has my head spinning.  He has been sweet and fussy, loving and screaming all in the course of two days.  I almost think I could handle it easier if it was non-stop fussiness.  Then at least I'd know what to expect.

This afternoon I was putting the finishing touches on the homemade beef stew I'd made for dinner, a stew that took me just about Finn's entire nap to put together.  Finn was interested in what I was doing, so I let him stir for me.  He loved it.  He loved it so much that when I first asked if he wanted to feed the cats (his favorite job) he said no.  The next time I asked if he wanted to feed the cats he didn't even answer me, he just gave me a kiss and kept stirring.  The third and fourth times were the same, and the fifth time he followed his kiss by putting his head on my shoulder - all while stirring.  It was so sweet and hilarious how he already knows exactly the way to play me when he wants to.

Eventually he did get tired of stirring, though, so we fed the kitties, and went outside to play until dinner was done.  We came inside and I made our plates, told him to get his water cup and go to his high chair, and I brought our plates and utensils to the table.  He first tried to eat the stew with a fork, but was having trouble and starting to show signs of throwing a temper tantrum, so I suggested he use his spoon. It worked at first, but then he accidentally spooned all his meat onto the floor instead of onto his spoon.  And he had a meltdown.

I tried everything.  I tried Happiest Tod.dler on the Blo.ck" todd.ler-speak.  "Finn mad!  Spoon is hard!" followed by "Fingers ok. Finn eat with fingers," which worked to calm him down, but then he'd immediately start screaming again when I gave him his food back.  I took him away from the table, calmed him down and then brought him back.  I tried putting the food on his spoon for him and then letting him feed himself.  I took his spoon away and tried to get him to eat with his fingers.  That had the best success, but then he saw me eating with a fork and freaked out all over again.  In the end he had maybe 4 bites of dinner, and I'd had enough.  I made him a larger than usual cup of milk and brought him upstairs for his bath.

He continued to scream for the first half of his bath, and then suddenly was happy. After bathtime we had a nice cuddle session with books, and then headed out for our walk.  He fussed the entire walk.  Every time I'd think he was finally asleep, he'd start crying again.  After 45 minutes, I just couldn't do it anymore, and so now he's rolling around in the bed next to me and still refusing to sleep.

I need to stretch out my sore back and stiff shoulders.  I didn't finish dinner, I'm starving, and I need to eat. I'm exhausted and in need of a good cry.  (And I also finally understand how my mom felt when she'd spent hours cooking something and I didn't eat it.  Dammit, that stew was really good and neither one of us enjoyed it.)

This is the hardest part of being a sing.le par.ent: not having someone to take over when I've absolutely had it.  When I wrote about how Nanny M took Finn when he was fussy for the second night in a row I said, "This is what it must be like to be married," and several people commented that no, that's not what it's like to be married.  I know that in most married families, the mom is the one who does most of the hard work child-rearing.  But I also know, that on a night like tonight, when I'm emotionally drained and have a toddler who is playing peek-a-boo around my computer, if I were married, I would leave my husband to deal with him and I could go downstairs and eat my dinner in peace.

Everything else about being a si.ngle pare.nt can be hard, but I've never done it any other way, so it really isn't that bad.  But this?  Tonight?  This sucks.

The Shower and the Single Mom

One of my biggest worries when starting back to work after Finn was born was how I was going to manage getting ready for work every morning, in particular, how I was going to be able to shower.  It turned out to be amazingly easy.  He woke up when I woke up, and every morning he was happy to sit in his bouncy chair and play for 5-10 minutes while I showered.  I missed my long, leisurely showers, but I was able to get clean and Finn stayed happy.  After my shower, we had a little cuddle time, then I changed his clothes and fed the cats before he moved to an activity mat while I dried my hair.  It was a nice, easy routine.

In his bouncy seat in September

A few months ago, he started to get bored with sitting in the bouncy seat and slid right out while I was in the shower.  It surprised him (and me!) a few times, but he never got hurt.  He did decide, however, that he was done with sitting in the seat, and wanted to play on the floor.  We ended up with a big collection of toys in buckets in the bathroom that would always end up spread all over the floor by the end of the morning.  Messy, but still we were both happy.

And then, this morning, I was massaging shampoo in my hair when I looked through the shower door to see Finn's feet disappear through the doorway.  He's been crawling for a week, but today, for the first time, he crawled right out of the bathroom.  I rinsed my hair as quickly as I could, and jumped out of the shower.  I found him just outside the door, holding an open bottle of Zantac, one pill in his mouth.  Two minutes and he manages to find his way into an unpacked box and into a bottle of pills.

My life is never going to be the same again, is it?

In the Beginning

Me standing in Ngorongoro Crater

Welcome IComLeavWe'rs!  As you can see by my profile, I’m a 39 year old single mom by choice, currently 25 weeks pregnant after 4 IUIs and1 miscarriage.  Most of my bloggy friends are other SMCs, or women on the road to becoming SMCs, but I’ve randomly found other non-SMC blogs that I enjoy following, which led me to decide to sign up for ICLW this month so I could find some more.

I started this blog less than a week after my miscarriage in May. It initially started as a blog about loss and grief, then turned into a TTC blog, and now it’s become a pregnancy blog.  The one unifying theme throughout all these entries is the fact that I’m doing this as a single woman, and I try to remember to talk about that aspect of things as I write, though it can be surprisingly hard to remember to cover those feelings while writing about ultrasounds and IUIs! 

Because of when I started this blog, I never really covered much of anything that came before my miscarriage.  So I’ve decided to take this week to write about things like how I decided to pursue this path, choosing a donor, and talking a little about my first few IUIs when facing the diagnosis of diminished ovarian reserve. 

Welcome, and I’m looking forward to reading your stories, as well!

* * * * * * * * * *

The first time I can remember consciously deciding I was considering the SMC route was about 9 years ago, when I was a medicine resident, sitting in the ICU with a sick patient, chatting with Dr. C, one of the nephrology attendings.  She was also single, and I’m guessing she was not much older than I am now.  I’m not sure exactly how the subject came up, but I remember saying to her, “I thinking of adopting if I’m still single by the time I’m in my late 30s.”  Dr. C said, “I always thought the same thing, but I just never did it, and I guess it’s too late now.”  That was one of the saddest things I’ve ever heard, and then and there I vowed I would never let myself get to the point where I felt like it was too late to pursue my dreams.

But then suddenly I was 36, with no husband, no boyfriend and no baby.  I had dated – I tried a couple of online dating sites (and went on a lot of dates), joined clubs, took photography classes, traveled the world and accepted every blind date that was offered to me, with no success.  I know that many of my friends think I should have done more with the online dating, but I really hated it, and while I tried several times to make myself sign up for one of the sites one more time, I just couldn’t do it.  But I also couldn’t commit myself to going further with adoption, even though I still really wanted to be a mom. And it was then that I realized that I really wanted the chance to be pregnant, and my plans changed. 

I talked to my Gyn at my next appointment with her, and she was full of advice and information, since she herself had twins through IUI with an anonymous donor.  Armed with the names a couple of sperm banks, I started googling, and discovered the online world of SMCs.  I also told my parents, who were surprisingly supportive and excited, and my sister, who promptly asked if she could be my birthing coach when the time came.  I also told my closest friends, who encouraged me to go forward with my plans, and to hurry up already!

I had to put things off a bit, though.  I was still hopeful I would meet Mr. Right, and thought I probably had more time to wait before my eggs really started to age.  I also had some traveling to do.  I love to travel, and I just wasn’t ready to give that up in favor of being a mom.  My plan was to make it to all seven continents before trying to conceive, which would have led to me having my first IUI this past fall, after I turned 39. 

My visit to the RE accelerated those plans a little, and led to me knocking Australia off the list of travel destinations so I could start TTC in January of 2010 instead.  I think that part of the story deserves another entry, though, so I’ll stop writing for now, and start reading some new-to-me blogs!

Estate Planning

I’d never given much thought to wills and estate planning until my friend Heidi’s husband died unexpectedly and without a will almost 8 years ago. Even though they were married, the fact that he didn’t have a will meant that a horrible and stressful time was made even worse as Heidi had to deal with all the financial craziness that ensued. Her experiences made me realize that I needed a will, because I definitely didn’t want my parents to have to deal with all that if something happened to me. For a few years I used one that I created online, but about 5 years ago I met with an estate attorney and created a will that was designed just for me. She also brought up that fact that as a single woman, I have no one to take care of finances if I’m temporarily incapacitated, and that it would be up to my parents to make medical decisions for me, if I wasn’t able to do so myself. At her suggestion, I had her draw up a durable power of attorney, so my sister could pay my bills and act on my behalf if I couldn’t. I also now have a health care power of attorney, since I don’t want my parents to be the ones to ever have to make hard medical decisions for me, and a living will that puts all my wishes in writing, so that my sister will have further proof that I meant what I said when we had The Talk a few years ago.

Now that I’m pregnant, I have a whole other issue to think about – what would happen to Chiquitito if something happened to me? Last month I called up my wonderful estate attorney and made an appointment to meet with her this afternoon. In less than an hour we discussed guardians and executors (and discussed the qualities that each would need to possess), and wills and trusts, and how they work together. While it’s possible (and easy) to make a will that creates the trust when the will goes into effect, that does result in more paperwork and hassle for those left behind. The other option is creating a trust now, that’s separate from the will, which makes finances incredibly easy when the trust is needed. So we’re going to create a trust, and put my non-retirement assets in there (if you can call my condo an asset) and then make the trust the benefactor of my retirement accounts and the life insurance policy that my financial guy is working on for me. Of course, creating a trust up front is more work for me, but I think it’s worth it, if it might save my family extra work someday.

I really hope that none of this is ever needed. I fully intend to watch Chiquitito grow up, graduate from college and maybe even have some Chiquititos of his own some day. But life never goes exactly as expected, and I feel better knowing I’ll have a contingency plan in place, just in case.

Handywoman at Work

I'm so proud of myself.  My dishwasher has been running very loudly for weeks, which is always an ominous sign.  And then tonight I turned on the dishwasher, and came back 20 minutes later to no noise but an icky smell.  The dishwasher was heating, but there was no water inside.  I had visions of weeks of washing dishes by hand, and hundreds of dollars being spent on replacing my second major kitchen appliance in less than a month (my much despised fridge died in August).

I almost called my dad, and even thought about calling a repairman.  But then I turned to Dr. Google, who informed me that maybe my Flood Float needed to be tapped.  I got out the wooden spoon, and whacked on the Flood Float a few times as instructed, but it didn't fix the problem.  So I really banged that Flood Float around (still not sure what a Flood Float does, but it's a little round dome at the front bottom of the washer), tried it again, and it's fixed!  Not only does it fill with water, but it does so quietly!

I can't believe I just fixed my dishwasher.  I feel so....self sufficient!

A Little Help from My Friends

 Married or single, going through IF treatments is stressful and exhausting – I don’t think that’s a newsflash to anyone.  But going through this as a single woman can be isolating and lonely, too.  Not having a partner to share the ups and downs with can really take a toll on your sanity.  I find it fascinating that whenever a woman is considering being a single mom, someone always asks, “Do you have a good support network for when you have a baby?” but no one ever asks, “Do you have a good support network for while you’re trying to have a baby?”

I’m lucky that I have a wonderful and supportive group of friends who have cheered me on every step of the way, but none of them can ever be as emotionally invested as I am.  And it’s pretty unlikely any of them would cuddle with me in the night and imagine with me the possibility of a baby. :)  On top of that, I’m pretty sure that a certain amount of IF fatigue sets in for them after awhile. I’m grateful for all the love they’ve given me, but I’ve also started to feel guilty. It feels like I’ve failed because I can’t give them happy news, or at least happy news that stays happy.  I can understand why some couples choose to keep their IF treatments a secret from their friends, because it does get tiring saying, “No, no good news,” over and over again.  But they have the luxury of keeping things a secret, because they have each other.  (I know, it’s not always perfect, and marriages have fallen apart as a result of the stresses of IF, but I’m generalizing here.) 

This is where the online community has been a lifesaver for me.  There is nothing like the support of someone who is living a similar experience every day.  Single or not, a woman going through IF treatments is intimately familiar with the day to day stress and heartache that goes with trying to conceive through artificial means; the support I’ve found from those who read my blog and from women on the discussion boards I frequent has allowed me to keep my sanity these past few months.  I am so thankful for each and every one of you. 

My advice to anyone who might stumble across my blog as she considers becoming a single mother by choice is simple.  Create your TTC support network.  You don’t have to write a blog, or spill your life story out on a discussion board if you’re not comfortable with that.  But find someone, somewhere, that you can share your journey with.  Strangers on the internet, your next door neighbor, your mom or your best friend – it doesn’t matter who.  Just don’t try to go it alone.  It’s just too hard for that. 

Monday night after my IUI, I was in bed with my hands on my belly, imagining a little zygote inside of me that will grow like mad the next 9 months to become my baby.  I was happy and hopeful, but also a little lonely, alone in the bed.  And then Tuesday morning I received an email from a friend I met through this blog.  She had written the email on Monday night, and ended it with this, “Pleasant dreams tonight! Perhaps a match (already) made in heaven is happening as you sleep...”

Hearing those words from someone else right then, when I needed them the most, reminded me that despite the fact that I sleep alone, I’m not alone in this.  And that makes all the difference.

*even zebra know you need all the friends you can get!

Vegas Baby!

I'm back from a wonderful Vegas trip.  I really didn't expect to have fun on my own, but it ended up being a great weekend, even the whole day thyroid conference was good.  Well, except for the minor inconvenience of a horrible headache on Saturday that eased off Saturday night but has returned full force tonight.  Blech.

Highlights from this weekend:

• A free bottle of champagne on ice in my hotel room - I guess they thought I was a big time gambler!
• Cirque du Soleil's Love - it was so great, I didn't even mind being there by myself
• An amazing spa treatment that included an arctic sauna with "snow" to cool off after the hot sauna
• Winning $1 at the quarter slots, only to lose it when I kept on gambling (I should've listened to Kenny Rogers and known when to walk away)
• Braving another fancy dinner on my own - and meeting a really nice older man who gave me his extra ticket to see Lionel Ritchie for free 
• Giving myself my Gonal-F shot on the plane - with no one noticing, and no turbulence induced trauma

For those of you who wondered, getting the medication on the plane wasn't a problem at all.  I brought it in the box with the prescription label on it just in case, but the TSA agents didn't even ask to see it.  I was really nervous about giving myself the shot in public, but it was a quiet flight and the guy next to me slept the whole way, so he didn't even notice.  Now I totally have street cred with my patients when they say they can't give themselves insulin in public....only most of them have no idea I'm trying to conceive, so I guess I can't use that story just yet.  

Next up is an ultrasound on Friday to see how things are going!

Out of the Blue

I’ve always known that I wanted to adopt some day.  In fact, my original plan as a choice mom had been to adopt.  I kept putting it off, not making plans, until I finally admitted to myself that I also really want to experience pregnancy, so I decided to try to conceive with donor sperm.  Given the fact that my tests all indicate diminished fertility, I’ve been thinking I’d try to adopt when it comes time to have baby #2.  I've found a lot of blogs about adoption lately, and it’s been discouraging to learn that so many choice moms have had a very hard time trying to adopt, and most seem to recommend fostering to adopt as the best option for a single mom who wants to adopt a child.  Which is where my office manager Michelle comes in.  She’s been a foster mom for years, the kind of foster mom that any child in the system would be lucky to have, and she keeps track of all her kids, even after they leave her and graduate out of the foster care system.  I talked to Michelle once about foster to adopt, which she tried before she had her son, but after talking to her, I decided it was something I’m not capable of doing.  (She had a little boy she brought home from the hospital after his birth, but then had to give him up when he was a year old.)  So I’ve become more and more discouraged as I realized that I might never be able to have more than one child.

Friday afternoon, Michelle stopped me as I was leaving the office.  She told me that she had talked with one of her former foster kids this week, and that his girlfriend is pregnant with their second child.  They can barely afford to pay for the things their first child needs, and are in danger of losing their home, so there’s no way they can raise another child.  He had called to ask Michelle if she’d be interested in adopting their baby.  Michelle and her husband are at the brink of divorce, so she told him she couldn’t give him an answer right away.  And then she thought of me.

She asked me if I’d want to adopt this baby.

I was in shock.  One second I was thinking about meeting LB and her kids for dinner, and the next I’m being offered what I have only dreamed of – the chance to adopt an infant.  So of course I told her yes!  I know it’s a long shot.  As my mom said today, it has just about as much a chance of happening as it does of not happening.  Michelle doesn’t know if the parents would want to give their child to a single mom.  She doesn’t know for certain if she wants the baby instead.  And it still isn’t a hundred percent positive that the parents will really go through with the selfless plan of giving their child to someone who can give him or her a better life than they can.  But just the possibility that it may happen fills me with a sense of hope and joy that I haven’t felt in a very long time.  You know how life works sometimes, one minute it’s the same old thing, then you turn a corner and suddenly something fabulous and unexpected is there.  It seems that I never manage to turn that corner, most of my friends have, but not me.  And now here I am, I’m the one peering around the corner and seeing that something amazing might be waiting. 

This wouldn’t change my plans to try to conceive at all.  Even if the parents told me on Monday that they want me to take their child, I’d still go through with my planned IUI next month.  That means there’s a chance, albeit a small one, that this time next year I might have two children, just 5 or 6 months apart in age.  Is that crazy?  It makes me wonder if I should tell Michelle no, that I’m not prepared to take that chance, because I’m having a hard time imagining caring for a newborn while being pregnant with another child, much less handling the chaos of two infants at the same time.

But what if this child is meant to be mine?  I feel like I need to step out on a limb and take a chance that might make my life crazy for the next few years – but crazy in a good way.  Just imagining the possibility is overwhelming and wonderful and incredibly frightening, all at the same time.  Does anyone have any words of wisdom or insight?  Am I insane for even considering this possibility?


*the baby elephant in the picture is one of the many at the Sheldrick Elephant Orphanage in Nairobi - this seems like a good post for her.

Jealousy

“I have really bad news,” LB said to me last night.  Since she sounded near tears, I immediately expected something awful, like the unlikely news that she and her husband were divorcing.  But what she said instead made my stomach drop: “I’m pregnant.”

Not that this is awful news for her – she’s wanted another baby since her son was born almost 5 years ago.  She went through infertility treatments with her daughter, and then her son was a happy surprise a few years later.  Unfortunately, her pregnancies weren’t uncomplicated, and she decided she was too afraid of a bad outcome to try for number 3.  But the universe had other plans, because my friend with primary infertility ended up with her second surprise pregnancy.

I wish I could be happy for her.  I wish I could give her the support she needs right now as she freaks out about various chemical exposures and changing litter boxes and missing prenatal vitamins, and as she worries about how this pregnancy will progress.  But all I can think is, “She’s pregnant, and I’m not.”

Once again, I’m reminded of how all my friends have gotten their heart’s desires – husband or boyfriend, children, a family – while I’m left alone with my cats.  (I know that things really aren’t that simple, but I can’t help it, this simplistic worldview is all I see right now.)  I wonder what horrible deeds I did in my past lives, who in the universe it was that I pissed off, that I’m 39 years old, and still single, still alone. I know, I have wonderful friends, and a great family, so in the technical sense I’m not alone, but that doesn’t change the fact that I go home by myself every night, with no one to hold me close as I cry at life’s unfairness.

And this is why LB said it was bad news.  She knew how I was going to feel, and she understands, as much as someone who’s been married for 15 years can understand.   

I hate feeling this jealousy.  I hate being so petty and childish that my friend’s good news makes me so sad.  I really hate that LB’s joy at this pregnancy is dampened by the thought of how I’m going to feel about it.  So I keep trying to imagine how great it will be, when I do get my BFP, to go through pregnancy with one of my best friends, and then to raise our children together as best friends, too.  But that pleasant line of thinking is always interrupted by the thought that if things had gone right, she would have gotten this news when I was just out of my first trimester, instead of when I’m grieving a lost pregnancy, and my feelings right now would be completely different.

I know I’ll get over this, and I’ll be able to be the friend LB needs right now.  But today…today sucks.