Friday, July 17, 2009


Infertility stole my sense of being a woman and at times my sense of belonging to the human race. All of this happened in a matter of moments and required a huge shift in my sense of self, because at some point my life had to go on and I had to get up out of the floor. One of my greatest lessons was learning that I was so much more than my body, my ability to reproduce did not define me, my body's lack of cooperation was not my fault, and eventually I had made it back to being able to function. There was one problem I ignored my entire body, I forgot that part of taking of me was taking care of the body that I was walking around in.

Weight and body image has been a problem since I hit puberty. Standing next to my mother, at the house of her friend, in the afternoon. Her friend was getting something for them to drink and she looked up. The words that she said to me were not meant to hurt, because she was one of the sweetest women in the world. She said it looked like I had put on some weight. I was 10 at the time and 23 years later, the memory of those words can bring tears to my eyes and a lump to my throat. This was in no way the beginning of my poor body image; it is just the first memory I have of someone making a comment about my weight, someone validating what I believed about myself. The fact was that I was going through puberty just a little bit earlier than most of my peers made me feel out of place. Looking back on the photographs I was not even close to being mildly overweight, I was just a girl going through puberty.

Now the body that I have ignored is screaming for me to pay attention. I know that I need to get this under control and I am sick of being the fat chick. There is only one problem is that I find myself caught in this vicious cycle and the mere idea of escaping is completely overwhelming. I hate the way I look, I eat, I am sad, I eat, I am happy, I eat, I feel bad about something, I eat, I am stressed, I eat. I eat because food is constant and comfortable.

Part of my healing the deep wounds of infertility is integrating myself back into myself. No matter how angry I am at this body for failing me, it is my body and I deserve better than what I am giving myself. In no way would I let someone else treat me the way I have treated myself. It all stops, the abuse that I have inflicted on myself stops today. Just as the misery was comfortable in the depression, the fat became my friend it has kept me safe and warm. I do not need this anymore, what I do need is to integrate my body back into my identity and begin to take care of myself again. I have a hard road ahead of me and I know that I will stumble and fall flat on my face at times, but the time has come for me to really respect myself.

Monday, July 13, 2009

emily the hopeless

Over the weekend, I went to Atlanta to meet Emily and her husband. Let me start by saying that they are the first people that I have met from the internets, thankfully they are who they say they are and are very wonderful people who I completely ADORE!!! Talking with them was just like talking to people I have known my whole life and plan on knowing for the rest of it. We went to a vegan restaurant, which for my carnivore self was a stretch, and it was soooo yummy. I had some of the best mac and cheese I have ever had in my life, and if you do not know I am a mac and cheese connoisseur. Mac and cheese is the best food in the whole world, sadly it all likes to live on my hips.

Meeting someone whose life I have been following for a while is a surreal experience, albeit a wonderful experience. You are sitting with someone that knows so much about you already that the conversation is just natural, and yet this is the first time that you have ever been in his or her presence. I really gained a new perspective on this whole blogging thing and how I relate to the people on the other side of the computer screen. Not that I was unaware that real people were on the other side, it just framed the whole thing in a different way for me.

Emily and Steve are just beginning the adoption process. As someone who is involved in the adoption process, I can say that they are some of the most prepared people I have ever met. We are all researchers in our path to parenthood, but they are reaching the level of experts. I would do anything to make them parents, if it was possible for me to have a baby I would be having one for them, and this is not something I can say for the vast majority of people. There is one thing that I can do to help them. We all know how expensive this baby making stuff can get, and adoption adds up the same way. Emily and Steve are selling the cutest bracelets to help them fund their adventure in adoption land. To help get the word out Steve designed a button for your blog that takes people to the place where they can get their very own bracelet. Come on you know you need more jewelry, one can never have enough accessories! Plus, you get to help a wonderful couple become parents, with the added benefit of helping our future child have a friend and that kid is going to need all the help they can get with parents like us ;)

Tuesday, July 7, 2009


Eight years ago today, under an overcast sky with a smattering of raindrops, I married the love of my life. We did not get to that day easily, our relationship evolved out of a lot of stops and starts. Stops that were so painful I was sure that I was going to die and starts that were so amazingly high that I never wanted them to end even though I was always waiting for the fall. Yes, we have a bi-polar relationship. When I was seventeen my therapist said that our relationship was symbiotic, and she was right but it works for us. We are better together than we are apart. Together we are invincible we may stumble and fall but we do so together. Our relationship is insular, no hurt is so deep that our little sphere cannot protect or heal. I love this relationship just as it is with all the dents and faults, with all the shininess worn off, and with all the other things that outsiders think is wrong, it suits me.
When I was seventeen he was just my best friend, he was the one who I needed to make my life better, and more importantly he one of two people that made a horrific time in my life tolerable. Something beautiful and tragic happens when a relationship is formed in a dark time in both the people’s life, and being able to maintain and grow that relationship outside that space is frightening at times. Knowing just how far the love of your life is capable of falling is scary and comforting at the same time, and it lets you know just how far they are capable of flying.
I am a better person because of him. I have taken risks I never would have dreamed of because I knew he was standing beside me. For seventeen years I have loved him, and still to this day I catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye and he takes my breath away. What I did to deserve this amazing man in my life, I will never know, but I am all too aware of just how lucky I am to have this amazing love in my life. A love that has given me more than I could ever return. Honey, I love you more than these simple words could ever express.

Monday, July 6, 2009


The depression is getting better, I am still taking Chantix but it is working so I am okay with feeling a little down from time to time. I finally finished painting the kitchen and got my awesome retro table moved in so now we can actually have people over to eat. My next challenge is getting all the junk in our guest room organized, but I think that may take a crew of people to get done. Are we the only people whose stuff seems to multiply all by itself? I swear we have bought very little since we moved and we are outgrowing this house already. Thankfully, there is a huge attic and most of this stuff will be going up there to live.

Of course, once you get one problem under control another one pops up. Yes, my life really is a game of Whack-A-Mole. I may have found myself in a situation where the answer is obvious, but not at all easy. Since we are scheduled to cycle in September (doing back flips) I am going to have a major problem with school. While we are cycling I have to be in Dallas for monitoring, but school is in Alabama. Monitoring could take up to and most likely will be two plus weeks, thank you PCOS. Then there is being there for the transfer, another three to four days. The nurse coordinator actually asked if I was going to be there for the transfer. First, it never occurred to me that it was optional. Second, nothing in this world could keep me away. I may not be the one carrying or giving birth, but I am going to be there for the conception or at least the part they will let me be there for. Are there really people who are not there for the transfer? That question just really bothered me for some reason.

As you can imagine this is not going to go over well with the graduate school thing. In one way this is the easiest decision ever, in another it is difficult to make the only choice that I have. Baby making beats out school every time. I know that school will still be there and I can always go back, but I do not know that I will. It took me sixteen years to finish college and that was not the experience that I wanted in graduate school. Part of getting this degree is having something to keep me busy while we are waiting to be parents, but another part of this, the bigger part, is completing a degree that means a lot to me. Granted, I do not intend to use this degree for a couple of years after the baby is born, but that is not the point. This is not a degree that will be easy for me to attain, doing it as a mother is going to mean a lot more sacrifice than I feel prepared for at this point. Maybe this will all be for naught, it is still possible that I can work something out, but I am really thinking that it will not.

On another note, thank you all so much for the support after my last post. It really meant the world to me, and helped more than I can ever express.