If you liked reading about hope, you'll love reading about...

AmyG's got a quite interesting post about envy going on. (Apologies for the incestuous reciprocal linking. Be careful that you don't get caught in some kind of infinite mouse clicking loop.) In trying to comment, I lost my shit a bit and was unable to respond rationally to her perfectly great question. The question, you see, is nested in within a description of some utter asswipe psychi.ass.trist's assvice (not to bias you or anything) about how infertile couples deal with pregnancies in their social circle. Since I've got no new sous vide cooker to play with, I thought I'd respond here rather than clogging up her comments. That's for you guys to do, please!

Is envy a component of my IF emotional package? Yessiree. In my personal case, is it the main component? Not right now, anyway. How I feel about the person involved seems to make a difference, though. (I'm thinking of fertile people--I think it's a different story with fellow infertiles.)

I feel envy when it's someone I don't care about, and the envy passes quickly. When it's someone I do care about, I feel profound sorrow. The sorrow does not go away and is made vastly worse by seeing the person or thinking about her pregnancy. (At least, that's how I'd describe the emotional experience. I could do some brain imaging studies to make sure--there do seem to be distinct brain circuits involved in envy as compared to grief--but I don't do brain imaging. So you'll have to take my word for it.) Does anyone else have this experience? The more you love the person the harder her pregnancy is?

As for the question of whether there's anything to be done about envy...I don't know. My approach is to remind myself of all the ways in which my life is superior. And because I have a nice life, this is semi-effective. While reminding myself about the good things in life has no effect on my sorrow at all, it seems to work for envy. This might be because envy is thought to be on a continuum with regular old admiration, and making oneself feel superior is a cure for admiration.

Side note: Some psychologists think there's a thing called chronic sorrow. It's distinct from grief, and applies to situations in which loss is irresolvable (including IF). Chronic sorrow can be assessed using the Chronic Sorrow Questionnaire. Doesn't that sound like a TOTAL BLAST to fill out?

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams...

I was reflecting this morning on the fact that once you become part of this community you are always going to be in contact with people for whom things are going better (relative to your own situation) and people for whom things are going worse. (I know I said that there was no such thing as better in an earlier post, but hey.) The idea of a continuum of bad and good reminded me of Max Ehrmann's Desiderata (pasted below). It's a prose poem about how to achieve happiness in life, and one stanza says, If you compare yourself with others / you may become vain and bitter/ for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Not the same message exactly, but a reminder that perspective is critical. The poem has a number of other lines that are resonating with me today. NOT And whether or not it is clear to you / no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. A big FUCK YOU on that one. But ...do not distress yourself with dark imaginings / Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. That seems appropriate for today. I've e-mailed my RE for clarification of some of the things I was too distressed to really hear yesterday and am digesting his responses. (He got back to me within an hour! That's service!) I'm set up for an IUI this cycle, and not surprisingly, knowing that I'm taking action (even if I believe it to be pointless action) has calmed me a little bit. I've thought about the things you guys are going through and gained perspective and humility. I mean, I'm not apologizing for being self-centered and dramatic, 'cause if I can't do that here, where can I? But as you all pointed out, while Big Emotional Reactions are part of this process, time and support from others will lead you to a choice you're comfortable with. I'm certainly comfortable doing one IUI and thinking about next steps! Anyway, thanks for the words of wisdom, y'all.

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

In which I am overwrought and hyperbolic

I expected this appointment to make me feel better, but it has made me feel far, far, worse. Worse than I've felt in a long time, and that's sayin' something. Strangely, this reaction seems to have little to do with the facts of my case. Turns out it was all in the interpretation. As my husband reported, my left ovary is basically stranded and useless. That tube is distended and displaced by a fibroid, so while the ovary does its best, it's just pumping all those perfectly nice eggs into a reproductive void. My RE thinks even if the fibroid were removed, the tube would not recover. Hearing that for myself was really upsetting. I apologize to those of you who have experienced real losses of reproductive organs--a tube, an ovary--I know my situation is not as bad. But when I think about all those months when I never even had a chance, I feel so angry! And I feel like my reproductive potential has just been halved. On the right side, he removed a cyst, and I'd formed the impression that I was therefore better off than before the surgery. That did not seem to be his message. He seemed to be suggesting that nothing was any different. We looked back over my ultrasounds from the IUIs. On all three occasions, I had mature follicles on my right side. He scanned me to see what my ovaries are currently up to--both are snoozing, so I don't yet know which side will be more dominant this month. Oh, and by the way, REs of the world, don't talk to professors about their grants while wanding them with your dildo cam. Grants are a stressful topic, for fuck's sake!

When he'd finished his wanding, he said, You're young, you've got plenty of eggs, there's no rush. I don't mind doing a few more IUI cycles! My throat constricted. I MIND. I MIND VERY MUCH. This is my life, my heartache! This process is seriously fucking with my ability to function! How dare you treat what I go through every month as though it's trivial! So...I began to cry. The effort to suppress full on sobbing resulted in me making pathetic squeaking noises, like I had a mouse under my modestly-draped sheet.

I don't understand why he would think IUI would work for me if it didn't before. Every time, my right ovary was in on the action! Why, oh WHY would it work? It won't work. I will never, ever get pregnant. Ever.

My other option is to have a myomectomy now. He stressed the fact that this is a serious surgery. That I'd be recovering for about three cycles and there might be scar tissue that could make things worse. Okay, he didn't say make things worse, but what else would scar tissue do? And that it might not do any good, but I can't have IVF without it.

The optimistic picture that my husband presented me with post-op was nowhere to be found in my RE's comments. The RE's message was, Let's do some more IUIs, Heck, it might work! And if not, you can have another surgery. Of course, that will be really bad and might not help. Sux 2 b u! Okay, I'm off to my next appointment! Let me know when you make up your mind!

I don't know what to do. I don't even know what to ask. Of course when I've calmed down a bit and talked to my husband, things will be clearer. At the moment all I know is that I stupidly allowed myself to hope. I allowed myself to imagine that I might get pregnant in the next few months. And that hope has been extinguished. COMFORT, please!

Elegy to my belly button and two other gloomy things

During an early exam, my RE was doing something in the region of my abdomen and suddenly exclaimed, You have a perfect belly button! I was surprised--if I'd ever thought about it before, I'd figured I had a pretty average belly button. I mean, I'm glad I have the kind that goes in, but that's as much as I've considered my navel. The RE was really impressed. He had the med student come over and look, and the two of them stood there over my belly button, nodding and agreeing, Yeah, uh huh, perfect. I guess he sees a lot of belly buttons, so I left feeling some small satisfaction. I have a perfect belly button! This morning I removed the remaining bit of bandage over my belly button, which I haven't seen in almost two weeks. And it is perfect no more. Now it looks like Frankenstein's belly button (except he wouldn't have needed a belly button, but you know). It doesn't look the same anymore. It's no longer perfect. I burst into tears. It just made me so sad. I know I sound like a crazy person, but I feel like so many things have been taken from me in the past year and a half, and now my erstwhile perfect belly button! Something I didn't even appreciate until a few months ago. And I know parenthood is about sacrifice, so I'd better get used to it. But DAMN.

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea
The plowman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to my ruined belly button.

The second reason for my crap mood is work-related. I've been working on a study for about a year and needed to run one last control experiment before writing the project up. I was finally able to analyze the data from the control experiment and it was a total bust--the effect I obtained was the precise opposite of what I'd hypothesized. The project is now in ruins. I don't know where to go from here, and I feel completely unfit for this career. I know logically that this cycle is part of my job, and part of other kinds of jobs too. It strongly resembles Twangy's graph of the creative process, because it is, after all, a creative process. I'll find a way to be re-inspired. Maybe. Or not. It just hurts so much, and in such a familiar way. You put your soul into something. You wait, you hope. You do everything you can. Little tweaks here and there. The moment of truth arrives, and...negative. I feel like I can't experience this set of emotions any more. They're so boring and painful.

Finally, I'm scared about tomorrow's appointment and I have no reason to be. Which makes me think what I'm really afraid of is getting back in the TTC saddle. These past months have not been relaxing or enjoyable, but at least I've not had the acute sense of failure that comes with not getting pregnant. Tomorrow I'll know where I'm headed, and have a clearer picture of exactly when I can start experiencing that sense of failure again.

I'm just so fucking sad. However, not too sad to say thanks for the fashion advice! (I'm super impressed you recognized the fabric, Trinity!) I'll try to implement your suggestions and will get back to you. Cause I know you'll be dying of anticipation.

Make it work!

Everyone around me (in internet land) seems to be going through harrowing emotional turmoil, so I'm going to write about something deeply superficial and frivolous.

For Christmas my super fine husband got us tickets to hear our favorite band play in Brooklyn over Valentine's day weekend. We're going to make an event of it--stay in a nice hotel, have some epicurian dining experiences, etc. I'd been looking forward to it until I realized I HAVE NOTHING TO WEAR. OMG! Going to New York (actually, going anywhere) always makes me feel like a country bumpkin. It might be because all my clothes are made of flour sacks and I have hay in my hair and a pig in my purse, but that's just how we roll in O-hi-o. I refuse to style my long hippie hair or wear makeup, and I never learned how to wear high-heeled shoes. My mother taught me these things were artificial and anti-feminist. On the other hand, I am not frumpy. I really like clothes, but simply don't have the knack of looking fashionable. I used to be pretty comfortable in my skin, but getting older and being infertile have combined in a really bad way to totally undermine my confidence.

So here's where you come in. I made this dress (take a close look at the fabric--it's the coolest thing ever!) for a wedding last summer. I'd like to take it, but it's winter now. I need to get something to put over it--a cardigan or a jacket. (I'm also debating whether to put some little cap sleeves on it. Strapless dresses don't actually flatter me-wish I'd remembered that before making it.) Left to my own devices, I'd just get something lame that looks terrible. So has anyone seen any cute stuff that you think might transform Country Bunny into City Bunny? Jackets? Boots? Magic beans? Use the accessory wall wisely.

The downside of sharing your intimate thoughts with the world

When I started writing this internet-based public journal, I assumed the downside would be that no one would ever read my thoughts and I'd feel pathetic in an all new way. But no! I was gathered into the warm embrace of the blogosphere and do indeed feel less alone on my journey. But an unexpected consequence of connecting with virtual people (okay, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you're real people) who virtually share various aspects of my situation is that I've become less tolerant of real world people not understanding these things I think about all the damn time.

Example 1: before yesterday's coffee I stopped by LP1's office and told her I would probably be unable to hang out with her pretty soon, and that she ought not take it personally. I tried to take Jen's advice about precise messaging and not get too complicated about it. She seemed glad I brought it up and was all I totally understand blah blah blah. Then she said, If you ever need someone to go with you to appointments, I'd be happy to. Uh. NOT SO MUCH, PREGNANT LADY. I mean, yes, totally sweet to offer, but did you not just hear me say I don't want to be around you? Can you even fathom what it would be like to go to an appointment about, say, your perpetually empty uterus with a PREGNANT lady? No, of course she can't.

Example 2: At yesterday's coffee I told all the LPs about my laparoscopy and one of them said, Can't they do embryo implantation? I was a bit confused. Like, what, in the middle of examining my ovaries they're going to stick an embryo in there? Where did they get this embryo? And where, exactly, are they going to put it? Down the fallopian tube? And how exactly will they get it to implant? And why haven't they shared this Magic Technology with the whole world? I mean, Laparoscopic Embryo Implantation ought to sell like hotcakes! I was confused because, you see, this LP is a neonatologist. I know neonatology is not reproductive endocrinology, but this person is a fucking DOCTOR! So for a moment I figured I'd just missed something. But no, this was just a typical ignorant query from an unexpected source.

In short, you people have spoiled me for the real world. Thanks a lot.

Glorious solitude

My husband is a delightful and wonderful fellow, and I'm so grateful we found each other. We get along pretty well despite the fact that we are different in many ways. As I've noted, he's an optimist, and I'm...not so much. When it comes to conflict resolution, he's a shouter and I'm a silent weeper. I'm extremely tidy, and he's...less so. I'm pretty much a non-procrastinator, and he's one of those can-only-work-under-time-pressure types. But as this old recipe for sealing wax says, when two substances of opposite humours are married, then a union true unto its purpose shall be obtained, suitable in all degrees and means. I think we're a pretty good match. Like shellac and turpentine, baby.

At the moment, though, I'm really fucking glad he's out of town. He travels for work every couple of weeks, and for the first time since before Christmas, he's out of my hair. IT'S HEAVEN! I know, I'm an asshole for being glad he's gone when he just nursed me like a total pro. But sometimes a girl needs solitude! And while I think we are dealing pretty well with the IF situation as a couple, sometimes it's nice not to have to worry about how he's feeling about how I'm feeling and how tired he is of being supportive all the time. And, of course, there's sex. We're in one of those slumps that seem to be pretty much unavoidable, plus I'm on pelvic rest until I can see my RE. So it's lovely not having to feel guilty for wanting to put out about as much as I want to have another set of knives and cameras jammed into my guts. Instead I can just flop down in front of the TV and wallow there like an enormous walrus.

In other news, the Lady Professors are having coffee this afternoon and I'm wondering if I'll be able keep my shit together in front of LP1, the pregnant one. I keep telling myself that she did nothing wrong, she's just a regular old fertile person doing her fertile thing. I'm just afraid I'll be all bitchy because of my burning resentment. So do I mention to her that, for future reference, a heads up e-mail is the way to be kind to your infertile friend? And that I'm not going to want to be around her at all pretty soon? Or do I keep my trap shut?