Stay mum or not.

I wrote this post six months ago- overlooked it it'til now.  Sorry about the delay.  

There was someone I have felt close to. She too dealt with infertility- the bottom line is that she said she had made peace with her infertility, not being able to be a mother; now she's in her early 60's. I have known her for more than fifteen years. I had looked up to her for many things, seeing her as a mentor for the religious path I have been on for over 20 years. Now on my childless path, I had looked up to her through the months going in and out of the hospitals, and when it struck me that I wouldn't be able to be a biological mother. I I still vividly remember when I was crying on phone, she said, "Go ahead and cry, cry it all out of your heart. Listen to me, don't obsess about it too long. Don't waste all your time on this. I got over it soon enough, and so will you." 

When I found myself still down 3 months after the hysterectomy, I started to think something was wrong. After 8 months, I was thinking "am I obsessing over it? Am I not letting it go?", drowning in self-guilt and self-doubt. It took reading blogs like Life Without Baby, The Road Less Travelled, Real Life & Thereafter, Serenity in Chaos, and books like "Silent Sorority" by Pamela Tsigdinos, "I'm Taking My Eggs and Going Home: How One Woman Dared to say No to Motherhood" by Lisa Manterfield, and "Unsung Lullabies: Understanding and Coping with Infertility" by Janet Jaff, Martha Diamond and David Diamond. There are more blogs and books that I could read, but to me, those blogs/books I listed are more significant- helping me realize that:

"Grief is not a straight path, it's a continual cycle, very much like a labyrinth with its countless turns and stripes short and long. Uphill, downhill, it's all that."

"Not everyone experiences infertility alike. No one walk the same path. Each person goes it her way, with individual coping, access to support, and courage on their own time."


That was the catharsis for me; I had to let go of my expectations and society's expectations on how I:

"should complete my grief,"
"should move on,"'
"should shut up, be quiet."

I have been an advocate for women power, Deaf community, HIV/AIDS education, awareness of child abuse, domestic violence, more, for long as I could remember. So, returning to advocacy, as a tool to help myself heal, while noticing how infertility, childlessness and childfree life are still overlooked and/or judged in society's eyes, I was thinking, Why not? This is something I can do. Empowering people and empowering me. I walk the walk, and I can say "have been there, done that- and I got this stinkin' T-shirt."

So in time, I would share a post or meme about infertility here and there on Facebook, occasionally...testing the waters.

Mostly, I'd get a few likes, two or three comments affirming or at least, asking how this happened to me and/or how they could help someone infertile in their family or among friends.  

I felt emboldened, to share some more posts, although I drew a line at 'oversharing' because even I don't want to focus on infertility alllll the time in my life. I keep a balance as possible, mostly advocating and supporting causes, (including fighting against domestic violence and oppressing women). I like to share positive memes, introvert memes and geek memes- What can I say? 

Anyway, there would be some dry weeks without a post about infertility, then 2-3 posts a week. I did notice when I would experience depression (trigger of pregnancy announcement, or a glimpse of a baby), I'd start looking at infertility and/or grief posts/articles to validate and comfort me, normalizing what I'm going through. From there I'd find a good article to share in goal of making the word infertility public; to share that infertility exists for someone in your life- if it's your sister, your cousin, your best friend, or your teacher. Or at least you know that you're not alone in this.

A day before Infertility awareness week, I was already 'down' due to a friend who had recently have her baby. I congratulated her about her son's birth and sent her a baby gift earlier that week. That's the best I could do, while hiding her (which I tend to do with friends/relatives- when they announce being pregnant, or going through pregnancy, I hide them. I say nothing. It's for my self preservation.) Anyway, looking forward to advocating awareness about infertility, I had already shared a article about how to be supportive to infertile friends earlier that week. That day, I noticed I had a private message from the dear friend. I was quite aghast of the horrid tone in the message, chewing me out for being open about my grief,, posting "8-10 posts about infertility DAILY", "taking up all her new feed with all negative posts", "it being a friggin' year of this." And right after that, she de-friended me.  

I was quite flabbergasted. I even had a friend check my page to see if I truly post infertile stuff "8-10 daily" as I said in one recent post; turned out that accusation wasn't true. I had to talk with a good friend who is also an IFer. More we talked about my response to the email, it drew upon me.

It wasn't about me. It was about the friend's own pain of her infertility.  

I tried to put myself in her shoes- back then there'd be not much support in 1980's. No support groups on Internet, or at least forums to talk it out. It would have been lonesome for her and other women back then. It might be presuming of me to say this, but it might be easier to sweep it under the rug, to pretend that it didn't hurt anymore. I could be wrong, although.

Me, I chose not to pretend that it was 'all fine'. After struggling thinking I should put a deadline on my grief, and learning I didn't have to. The journey is mine, not anyone else's.

I chose to face my grief, and I chose to be public about my childlessness/infertility- in goal of removing the sting of taboo, normalizing and shrinking sense of stigma from the word 'Infertility. More I speak up in advocating, more women (and men) have contacted me privately, thanking me for putting the spotlight on this issue. They are not ready to open their hurt to the world, yet they appreciate that they are not alone anymore.

So that led me to realize that the friend possibly experienced re-opening wounds of her infertility; maybe that she hadn't proceeded through her own grief. Hence, it's pretty easier for her to lash out at me outward, instead of looking inward of her own pain.

That furthermore led me to realize three things-

I had hid certain people who go through pregnancy, for self preservation.. Why couldn't she have hid me for her own preservation?

I moved some people to close friends or favorites, where I could see their posts while NOT seeing others' posts. Why couldn't she selected close friends in new feeds where she'd see their posts, not mine?

She could have de-friended me; well she did. After sending me that horrible email, that was. However, she could have done this all along before now then- why waiting a year and some to do so, doing it as a dramatic exit?

I don't know the reasoning behind this. I just wish she could have talked with me about her reactions, her perceptive about me sharing posts about the topic she is not comfortable with. The email's message was absolutely unnecessary. I feel sympathy for her, and what she had gone through; I also understand how she chose to face this devastating trauma. However, I am not definitely happy how she projected herself upon me, putting a deadline of grief/healing on me, and when I didn't, she chose to think that something was wrong with me. She forgot, I'm NOT who she is.

How I address my grief, how I choose to draw strength from advocacy and helping people, refusing to 'sweep under the rug', that is certainly not wrong for me.

That's the difference between her and me.

http://cdn.ebaumsworld.com/thumbs/video/1990574/82280914.jpg

And a bit of regret.

It had been very busy for me since the last post, especially with me attending a counseling conference last weekend (and take a note from me- *try* to take a day or two off before or after.)     Before I go on in this post, I got to tell you- I was flabbergasted to find that only one Deaf counselor (me) had showed up at that conference, among 3700 attendees.   Whatever.......

Although, I took a lot of workshops that I felt were necessary to pursue in my job, or would benefit my clients;  I chose one workshop for myself- "Regret and Forgiveness and Wellness." What grabbed my attention was what the presenters had written for purpose of this workshop: "Negative emotions can lead to a breakdown in all areas of life. "If Only" are the saddest two words in the world.  Regret weights a ton for those who shoulder it every day.  The process of this session will be to confront regret and learn the path to forgiveness. There is almost a magic as forgiveness allow guilt, sadness, shame, anger, or disappointment in self to fade."

The room was totally packed when I came in, so a guy was nice to give me his chair when he realized I had trouble getting on the floor (due to bad knees.)  It was then a realization that all of us have to be in smaller groups, to identify a regret, to expand on it if desired, what one can do about it and to let it go- well you get the idea.

When the presenters said to tell each other of a regret, I looked at the fellow members in group, and I had one thing on my mind. Many doubts flying around in my mind- "was this big? Not enough?  Too soon to say?  Would they understand?"  Realizing the eyes were then on me, waiting to hear if I'd share something forbidden, I burst out,

"I cannot have children, I should have gotten pregnant much earlier, that's my regret."

That said, I wanted to grab it back and say "you didn't hear that at all."  But no, that's out in the open.   I was both frightened and emboldened... crazy, huh?

I couldn't say more than that, but to say that by end of the educational session, I was thinking on what I had learned about myself:

I am still grieving, although it is changing bit by bit.
I am not ready to let it go at this time.
I need to forgive myself first before I could forgive others.
I need to follow the spiritual/emotional map destined for me on my own time, in my space; I cannot follow others people's maps in forgiveness.

And you know what?  I'm okay with that.



P.S. I had ordered the book, that was recommended in the session "Way of Forgiveness" by Patrick Miller. So that's something I'll read someday.... when I'm ready.

Saving things or dreams?

Currently, I'm reading a book, "Throw Out Fifty Things" by Gail Blanke.   At face, it looked like something for me to declutter my life, especially with me feeling I have so many things I don't need anymore. 

The book addresses emotional decluttering, putting an emotional attachment to each item in the place.  One wouldn't realize it until you have it in the hand, ready to put it in the box to donate to Goodwill; I remember when I got this, in Inner Harbor, Baltimore, with friends... remembering the memories.  

*snap*  You're hooked.  You could not let the item go, after all.  It goes back on the shelf to collect dust...again.  

For me, it's items I had saved so much from when I was a child, when I had dreams of having children, and what I would teach my children, as the poster up here shows, of Calvin and Hobbes.  Calvin had saved his doll, Hobbes to give to his daughter. For me, I had preseved my childhood book "Little Princess" by Frances Hodgson Burnett, pages worn and faded.  Two Breyer horses, awaiting little hands to play with or pretend being real horses; the horses with chips from when I played with them somewhat tough.  My dad's book "Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer" printed in 1939, when he was a little boy.  A stuffed Teddy bear that my grandpa had given to me before he died.  

There are so many things tied to memories...

And dreams.  

Dreams of having children, and to pass to children, what I had enjoyed and loved.  

So reading the book, only on the second chapter (despite that I had started last November, would you believe that?), "Throw Out Fifty Things" is harder to read than to read "Peace and War" emotionally.   My mind is able to read, detached from emotions, yet I can hear the inner mother within me, saying 

No!

(in a firm tone, no less.)  

I skipped many areas of the book and focused on the three rooms I can easily determine what to get rid of....

The bathroom, the living room, and the kitchen.     

Into the donation box; unopened piles of soap, many packages of pads/pantiliners (thanks to Costco almost two years ago- hadn't a need after the SURGERY), many self-care things I had gotten from family for many Christmas or birthday- (who needs that many bath bubble bottles??!-17 really?!),  brand new jars for preserving, extra pots and pans, so many cookbooks, shampoo and etc.  Many empty frames collecting dust in the hutch's drawer (this was the hardest thing for me to do.)  A lot of decorations from the living room- including many ornaments- One or two is enough, instead of 20 items to shout out my love for things British. 

Into the recycle box; magazines, aluminum cans (I had saved a lot of Cafe Du Monde chicory coffee cans, in thinking that I'll make a nifty wall decoration with them like I saw on HGTV), and so many papers I had saved from high school and college (I thought I would have used them for work or parenting advice for myself.)   Many magazines will go to collage art box at where I work- kids can use them for art therapy.  

Despite that I had gotten rid of so many books last year and the year before, I still managed to get rid of more books (63!) with reminding myself that it is very much likely that I'd not read them again. I love the books, but would I find myself reading them again? I'll need to remind myself to use my Nook more often. There's very few authors that I'd not mind reading again, like Laurel K. Hamilton, Sherrilyn Kenyon, J.R. Ward and Kresley Cole. Those novels I'm keeping.  

Soon I'll be dropping the stuff at the shelter for survivors of domestic violence- they would appreciate the self-care items, especially the romances and fiction books!  

For the children stuff, the childhood stuff, dreams...?

Not going to touch with a ten-foot pole.  

I'm listening to the inner mom, for now.  

I'll get there to the point I'd be ready to re-evaluate the childhood stuff, and that means looking again at my dreams.  Some day.  

Just not now.  

Substitute children with furry kids?

Noticing so many friends sharing photos of their kittens/cats and dogs on Facebook, there were a lot of moments when I found myself go 'oooo adorable!' or "ahhh, cute!"      Looking at videos on YouTube, with dogs howling, or of cats prancing, certainly lightens my mood.  I started to look into whether I could adopt a cat, specifically out of hypoallergenic cats (i.e. Devon or Cornish Rex, Birman, etc.) I found myself on several cat rescue websites, while wondering where I could put the litter box that the dogs couldn't have access to.

I stopped and realized I was thinking about acquiring another furry kid.  The worst part of the first anniversary's timeline is coming up in less than a week; in which I have already noticed some symptoms re-appearing lately.   Weeping for no reason;  tears in eyes if someone say something unthoughtful, such as "aren't you glad you don't have a kid?" while cleaning a mess after his kid; hypersensitivity to pregnant moms or new moms with babies in their arms; mooning over children books or clothes; and the black cloud above the head.  That tells me that I'm more vulnerable- which comes to the question of furry kids.

I tried to check blogs and Internet articles on whether there is a tendency for childless folks to get furry kids.  I hadn't success-  there's a certain amount of childless and infertile blogs and articles, and that goes for the furry kids....but nothing about *both* at same time.  

With the maternal instincts and the need to take care of something, it's certainly easy to meet that need with furry kids.  We have those dog daycare and schooling, we have pet insurance, Gods know some of us even go out of our ways to dress dogs like babies. Clothing boutiques, no less, to accommodate one's desire to humanize their furry kids.


Gods know that  my dad's family look odd at me when I tell them my dogs have to be with me if more than a few days- you see, Dad's family see dogs for working and hunting purposes, not pleasure or comfort (or forbid the thought, family) purposes. I wasn't like that two years ago. So, you get the idea.
Do we try to transfer love to furry kids-  dogs, cats, horses?  Don't get me wrong, but recalling the book "Falling for Eli" by Nancy Shulins certainly comes in mind.

After realizing that I have kept my dogs close to me since the beginning of the journey ending with the realization that I cannot have children, I found myself confronted with the question:  how would I react to either of the dogs' death?  After all they do not have a long lifetime like us human beings.  Would I want to get another dog after Lola?  Just thinking about it, I am overwhelmed by anxiety and fear.  And would I want to raise a kitten, treat him like a little human baby, and deal with his death when he becomes old or sick?

http://cattime.com/dog-and-cat-photos/funny-dog-pictures/no-more-kisses-please

For now, I'm reinforcing the reminder not to consider adopting any furry kids until well past March, when I'd be less vulnerable.

Readers, have you encountered similar situations like this?  If so, how did you handle this?

Can you imagine not having a child?

As you look at your baby in your arms, re-counting his fingers and toes, admiring her long eyelashes, feeling the heartbeat, you look forward to explore the world with the new family member. 

Can you imagine a life without your baby?  No patting his back to hear him burp; no raspberry-blowing on her soft belly, or no tickling to hear his laugh?

As you pick your toddler to put him on his tricycle, laughing at her mess as she samples her first birthday cake, and reading the book “The Hungry Caterpillar” with him on your lap, you cherish the moments.

Can you imagine living without your toddler?  No squeaky toys to pick up, no kissing ‘ouches’, no “good night, moon” reading at bedtime?  

As you watch your son stepping into the school bus, kissing her trembling pout as she looks at the teacher for the first time, and his smile of pride as he gives you his test with ‘B+’ in blue, you’d think you’d never give up remembering those times. 

Can you imagine driving by a school, no one to jump out of your car; no one blowing a kiss for you to catch; or no announcing losing the hamster during the show-tell?  

As you walk to the mall in a mixture of excitement and dread knowing you’re going into a battle with your daughter over clothes again, paling as you open the cellphone bill yet knowing that’s somewhat expected, or looking on with pride as he scores a goal at the  soccer tournament, you chuckle in fond remembrance. 

Can you imagine not being there to hold her as she cries about her first break-up; not being there when he goes, “Mom…!” as he rolls his eyes; or not giving a high-five as she comes home excited, to exclaim she got accepted for the middle school basketball team?

As you tremble in thought of him learning to drive, arguing with her about her outfit on way to school, and dreading have the Talk with your teenager, you convince yourself that it is worth the entire struggle to see him become a young adult.  

Can you imagine missing seeing her smile at you shyly in her prom dress, and, missing out on cheering as he opens his letter of acceptance to his college, or missing the opportunity to be there at her undergraduate graduation?  

Now, you know that’s what you’re expecting as a mother.

Now can you imagine what it is like for us non-moms? Can you imagine what we feel as we hear and see your babies and the potential, knowing we are living without?  

As you look at your baby, can you imagine living not having your life without a child?   

Neither could we imagine.  We didn’t expect that either. 

For many of us, we have to live without children due to circumstances and infertility. 

Can you imagine how you would feel if someone tells you, “you can’t have a baby;”  “Your egg didn’t take in this 9^th attempt;” or “After all that tests and interventions, I’m sorry to say we may have to consider that you cannot have children after all”?   Look at your baby and can you consider what it’s like not having a baby?

Could you imagine how you’d feel if someone suggest adoption after you had already considered countless times, when we had asked the bank for a loan for the third time to be rejected, and when we went through months of home study to be told that the birth mother picked the other couple over us?  Search your baby’s face and can you wonder the heart-wrenching frustration? 

Now, can you see why it is heartbreaking for many of us, to even smile with you bravely, yet experiencing heartache?  Can you see how we have to be strong, struggling not to break down in tears, as you look down at your baby and melt in his smile?  

Hence, give her a break when your sister is not up to coming to your baby shower.  Accept if not understand, when the friend does not want to experience living vicariously through your pregnancy.   Ask, without presuming, whether that your cousin would want to hear about how it went for the first day of school or not.  Offer consideration of visiting your child, “when you are ready” to your sister-in-law, instead of saying “oh, you can take my baby anytime” in a humorous way.  

Be compassionate yet not pitying us.   After all, we have to find our courage to live without children.  Be supportive, yet not judging us.   After all, we have to adjust to a child-free life and learn to live fully.   Love us, yet not forget us.  After all, we didn’t forget you, our friends, our sisters, our aunts, our cousins.   We try to be there for you, but sometimes we need you to be there for us too.  

Can you imagine doing that?  

Pinning information about childlessness and infertility?

http://pinterest.com/search/?q=infertility

Quietly, I cruise through Pinterest, enjoying finding images and following up to links attached to the images.  To my surprise, there's not much pins on infertility, even LESS for childlessness (by or not by choice), or living after infertility.    

I wonder why....?


Me, I'd not mind sharing information- but so far I have seen of childlessness or living after infertility are blogs,  and a few information links.

IMO, I feel it's good to share information/publicize the other side of infertility- after all not everyone of us are able to have children.  Why could one stay invisible, just because of not having children?

Your thoughts?  :)

Normalcy

Last week, I was me.

Not childless, nor infertile.

Among the crowds of signing hands, at a convention for the Deaf, I was just someone in the crowd.  I got to socialize with friends that I hadn't seen for years. I chatted with people who didn't know of my background, hence no one asked if I was married or with a partner, and the best thing, there wasn't the dreaded question, "Do you have children?"  

Not even once.  

Not someone who had her heart broken by infertility. Not one who goes through good and bad days during her grief process.  Not a woman who aches for the chance to hold a baby in her arms.  

People who talked with me, saw a Deaf woman signing in her native language, American Sign Language, a therapist, someone passionate about advocacy in the Deaf community and identity, a labyrinth teacher. Someone who laughed with friends.  A wonderful dialogue over multiculturalism with a classmate after not seeing each other for three years.

Us artists, Matt (That Deaf Guy) and me

 An artist speaking with another artist about feeling connected to her art, and laughing over funny comics. Politics and current ethics hotly discussed between two fellow philosophers.  A local introducing a tourist to delicious native food in the neighborhood.

 Normalcy. 

Babble 'n Blog

I didn't realize how much I missed that until last week.

 The writer in her blog,Babble 'n Blog, said in one of her posts about normalcy, and of how she realized she had missed that after a crazy schedule of being on and off from work through the holidays last year. She stated, "I hate ruts, but love normalcy. Is that a contradiction or a sign of balance?"

I paused considering that statement.  I don't know about ruts, but does one believe normalcy as a sign of balance?   How do one determine that?  To one, being a single mother might be normal, while not to a two-parent family.  Childless by choice, it might be normal for her with her decision not to have children, which may be alien to families with many children.  

There are women  and men who are childless not by choice.
How do we find normalcy?

That is something I need to think on at this time.

Close Encounters of the Fifth Kind

I'm sure some of y'all have noticed the movie 'Close Encounter of the Third Kind" showing up on television lately.

For folks who don't know ufology, there are five kinds of encounters when it comes unidentified flying objects (UFOs);

First: visual sight of an unidentified flying object

Ooo, oh look!

Second: Visual sighting, with physical effects on animate and inanimate objects.  This could include seeing an UFO, and experiencing sunburn, burning of objects (wood, grass, etc) for two examples. 


Third:  Sighting of aliens either inside or outside of the UFO (picture the big-eyed elf-like alien like in that movie).


Now, that's not what I'm talking about right now.  I'm thinking about the fifth kind, (I'm ignoring the fourth, which means human abduction by aliens for medical reasons, which is scary in its own). 


The fifth kind, as in the purposeful meeting/contact (voluntary/conscious) between the humans and extraterrestrial intelligence. 


Wait, bear with me...  I know you're starting to wonder what is all this about? I thought it's an infertility/childless blog!


I'm wondering, I'm thinking... and I have to ask y'all...  


How do you know when you're ready to look at a baby without breaking down?


How do you know when it's okay to hold a baby and not have tears running down your cheeks?


How do you peer into a baby's eyes and smile without shadows in your eyes?




How?  That's what I'm starting to wonder.  I do see the babies out there. It's easy to see 'em as UFOs, since you won't see 'em again.  


What if you don't want to do that anymore?  What if you want to get closer and touch the soft skin?  To reach out and coax a smile on the baby's face?  


What if you ache to make close encounters of the fifth kind with babies? But you're afraid of getting your heart broken repeatedly.  How do you do encounters with that risk? 

Green parenthood

How would you know when you are ready?

Turning the page

Books

How do I love thee?  Let me count the ways...

Books have been a mainstay of my life long as I could remember.  Family had said that they could always know where to find me, "Just look for her at the bookshelves" or "at the library."  There are childhood photos of where they'd catch me reading while stirring the chocolate creme going for the pie or of other foods, watching a movie (yes, a movie AND a book), hiding in the tree house with several comic books, and even a photo of me reading while in a bathtub (I was maybe 6 or 7.)    Sometime I think a book was handed to me every time  I was dragged along with family to visit other relatives or friends, because if there's no book in my hand, I usually get in mischief.  Literally.  One time, there was no books at a house of a friend who lives in Pueblo, CO; so I wandered deep in the desert (and no one had told me of the dangers in the desert, imagine that!)   So family called for me- of course,they forgot I can't hear them.  I came back as the police arrived, and I didn't understand the big deal. I didn't have the heart to tell them that I had found a rattlesnake, (I didn't pick it up, thro I like snakes), or of climbing up and down rocky hills. The scare of me missing was hard enough on the family.   There's a lot of stories that came out of what trouble I found myself in, when there was no books.  Ha!

Unlike the majority of IF community, I did not struggle with IF for years. The main reason was that I did not try to get pregnant for years until last year. You see, through years, despite one miscarriage, I thought I will have a child or two, there wasn't any question on that.  Infertility never had entered my mind until last October, when the doctor said the tumor was not in my stomach, but in the uterus. And that was with confusion, just one question "Can I have children or not?" Simple as that.  I did not think about eating healthy, mindfulness, medical interventions (IVF, fertility shots, etc), not yet.  Visits to the OB-GYN did not have answers to the significant question that was becoming my obsession, Can I have children or not?   Only when the reproductive oncologist stated just before Christmas, that the uterus has to be removed with the tumor in the lining, and that there's no chance of bearing children, none.  I went through the holiday in numbness, very much emotionally detached from family, watching my toddler cousins opening their presents, and congratulating my brother and his wife expecting their first baby, while someone inside my mind was screaming, wailing, scratching her arms bleeding, wanting a bottle of vodka to drown in.  I stayed detached long as I could, trying to stay fatalist, "so, that's that.  Shit happens. Deal with it."   Not easy, and not healthy.

I ordered two books, Lisa Manterfield's  "I'm Taking My Eggs and Going Home: How One Woman Dared to Say No to Motherhood" and  Beverly Barna's "Infertility Sucks!"   They collected dust on my nightstand. I love books, but those two books, I avoided.  Half-heartedly, I put some IF books on my Amazon 'wish list,' just in case. 


During that time, I escaped through books, as I always have.  There are so many worlds out there that infertility does not exist.    Instead, there are mystical worlds of Laurel K Hamilton, Anthony Piers, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Charles de Lint, Chloe Neill, Nalini Singh, J.R. Ward, Anne McCaffrey, Wendy and Richard Pini;  I fled into their dimensions.


I wanted so badly to stay in the worlds, never to return to Earth and reality. 

http://www.pernhome.com/aim/

Unfortunately, that was not to happen.    Someday I had to face reality, and that's what I'm doing right now...attempting to adjust to the new reality of being childless, not by choice.  

Now it has been four months since the surgery.  I had been reading Lisa Manterfield's book on and off- I rather like it so far. I found unlike other books that I could devour in a day, this book I have to put down after certain statements or paragraphs. The book would be lying there awaiting for me to pick up again; which happen now and then. I'm at half-way, (good for me).     

Yesterday,there was a book market, ten of thousands used books,waiting to be picked up and taken to new homes.  With cash in my pocket, I gathered so many books in joy, expecting to see old and new friends in pages, to rejoin and explore worlds of magic, love, horror, and geek.  

http://annelipscomb.com/blog.html?start=20

Almost against my will, I found myself at a table with pile of books, with a sign, "Infertility."  With a sigh of resignation, I started to look. I quickly gave up after looking at many books, finding them offering cures, memoirs with women finally becoming mothers, of holistic alternative self-cares ("Mindful eating will help you get pregnant!"). Bottom line; they were offering hope.     

I didn't want hope.   I want to figure how to accept the reality that had been thrust upon me. 

I hurried away, with books in my bags to the cashier.  Waiting in the line, people-watching, with the sun turning my skin red, I stepped on something. I looked down, to find that someone had dropped a book. I picked it up, with difficulty (try that with three full bags of books, and some extra hardcovers in your arms).  It's "Grief Recovery Handbook" by John W. James and Russell Friedman.  I held it, half wondering what's in the book, and half waiting for someone to come and say "that's my book."  

It was then my turn at the cashier, to pay with cash.  I looked at the book in my hand, and said to myself, "what the hell.. might as well buy it."  

Back at home, I skimmed through the book.   Something I think I'd like to read.    

But not now.   Later.  When I feel ready.  

I am beating a hasty retreat to Lore Leigh's world of The Breeds.  

****************************************************************

Funny.....  (not ha-ha funny-    odd funny)     The day after I wrote this post, I got three books in mail.  I had ordered many books (I tend to order books for myself off the Amazon wish list- it seems to grow, not reduce in numbers! anyway...) in a variety of topics- paranormal romances, infertility, memoirs, sci-fic, natural disasters, graphic novels, etc, from Amazon and their smaller shops that sell on Amazon... I ordered three books related to infertility/childlessness, among ten other books.  Guess what showed up today at my door?   Yup, THOSE three books only, no other books yet.    

I got "Falling for Eli", "Adopting on your own: The complete guide to Adoption for single parents" and "Do you love someone who is infertile?: What can you do to help her, what to support her and what you should never do or say."

Odd coincidence, eh?  

Mark of honor

I have been thinking, of bearing up with pain inside me, why not have it out on my skin?  


Tattoo.  


I looked, and I looked...    there's no childlessness symbol, as there is for eating disorders, cancer, HIV/AIDS, military branches, etc..     nothing-   here's an infertility symbol I found on Internet search:

However it's very much for resolution of infertility (after medical interventions), motherhood, finding hope going through infertility, etc..  You can get the context from this:

Fertility & Hope

"Featuring words to fortify the spirit. A spiral to symbolize the journey and the creative life force. The heart represents life and the heart that is full of love for our future children.  A wonderful gift to encourage someone you love going through the emotional roller coaster of infertility."

All to give hope to the individual who is going through infertility, in and out of doctor's offices, IVF, etc... "one day you'll have a child."

Granted, I'm writing all this on a day when I'm going through anger.  All that fluffy, bunny-cute, sunshine-warm, white clouds-happiness?  PASS.



Okay- what about childlessness,   not by choice?  Not speaking of child-free or childless by choice, but childlessness, with grief, the anger, the acceptance and the heartbreaking journey all through it? And one day,  accepting it as a path walked less, but still a PATH you walk on.


I have been talking with an artist- she is aware of what I'm going through.


So, I'm still mulling.

No visits

I actually miss Aunt Flo.........  Y'all know she hadn't visited me since that surgery in February.

Does that make sense?