Wednesday, February 28, 2007

More Medical Inanities

I spent the early part of yesterday in the ER getting x-rayed and bent and poked and prodded. No, no fractures this time. I probably have a soft tissue injury, or at least I'm assuming I do since the butthead attending Doc didn't bother to check or refer me to someone who could deal with it.

Yes, *sigh* I've collected another butthead doctor story to go with the others. See, my own doctor is away, and her office suggested I go to the ER since they could get me into the fracture clinic right away if anything was broken. They could've ordered an x-ray, but with her wouldn't be very helpful, and her replacement could only fit me in at the end of the day.

So off I go, in pain, limping on both legs, looking pathetic. And after seeing triage, and three nurses, and a medical student, (who were all lovely BTW), I finally see jerkboy, who proceeds to tell me that I only qualify to get an x-ray because of my osteoporosis, as if he is handing down a gift from on high. He only saw a few signs, like pain, or flinching etc. because in order to get there, I had doped myself to the gills with anti-inflammatories, coedine, etc. I had also been lying on a bed for 2 hours, iced and elevated. I had told him this...but he ignored it.

I mean, hello...of course I had few signs of pain after all that. DUH! But when I got back home and everything wore off, sheesh, did it hurt. What made his Lord Mucky-muck imitation even more ridiculous BTW, was that right after he gifted me with the x-ray, I overheard him whining about how hard all his paperwork was to the nurse, who proceeded to flirt and fawn endlessly over him. If I was able to walk, I swear I would've jumped over the curtain, grabbed my own prescription, and told them to just screw each other on the desk right there, and get back to work, so the bleeding patients could get some treatment.

In the end, I'm off to see my own Doc Thursday or Friday for some more help, and it turns out the latest 'amazing' endocrinologist can see me Thursday, so maybe I can get some more answers then about the thyroid issues. Of course, I really shouldn't get my hopes up when it comes to Doctors should I?

Why is it they are all so nice and normal and reasonable when the are med students, or even residents, and somewhere around the attending, or specialist stage they become horrid human beings...absolutely awful at listening and learning? I have more stories stored up, not just these ones, but help me out---am I the only one this happens too? Are Dr.'s really this bad? Or just the ones I run into?

Monday, February 26, 2007

More Broken and Bent Bits

Not such a hot weekend. Saturday morning, CD1 begins, with no warning, blahing my mood. I knew that it was going to happen, because due to my cold and grossness, it would've taken the immaculate conception to get me knocked up last month, but still, a few cramps as a heads up would've been considerate.

Then, I was walking down the street with my little guy on the way to the park and discovered that crossing the street is not nearly as easy as it looks. I tripped over a speed bump and went flying ass over teakettle smack in the middle of the road.

I fell hard, and had to get up pretty damn slow. I think every part of my body got knocked and jarred. My hands got skinned and my head smacked the pavement, but worst of all, the impact on my knees.

With the osteoporosis and all, I am very paranoid about getting hurt. And well, this time, my knees took the brunt of it, and things hurt and clicked and groaned in all the wrong places. When I was 17 I blew my knees out cycling, and made it worse by wearing hideously high heeled boots. (Yes, stupid...aren't all teenagers stupid about fashion?) So having been through knee surgery once, the last thing I want to do is hurt them, and shit have I ever. They aren't just skinned, but swollen, and bruised, and painful.

Thank God for cellphones...hubby came and got me and the kidlet, got me home, and I started swallowing ibuprofen and icing the sore bits. Not that it did much good, everything hurt worse the next day. And that day, was the day we had already invited everyone over for roast turkey. The already-thawed, waiting-for-me-to-cook-it-turkey. Hubs was busy with work and other stuff and couldn't do it, so I did it. With sore messed up knees and back. #$!%^&

Good part was, I did it in the convection oven, at 350 degrees, rubbed with sage, salt, olive oil, garlic, and pepper and it came out perfect. (I had to shield the wings and legs with some foil, then tent the breast with a little more foil part way through.) Golden, beautiful, moist, and delish. 2 hours, and 20 minutes flat for a 16 pound turkey. Not bad for a chick with lousy bones and joints, huh?

So maybe the weekend wasn't sooo awful. Yummy, but achy. Going to go ice the knees some more. Gah....

Friday, February 23, 2007

Distracting myself again

So, I'm not going to worry about whether or not things went well yesterday. I can't...I can't control any of that really. I have a long list of things to get done around the house and work on and hopefully focusing on that will help me worry less.

Aaaaanyway, because my real name might be mentioned in the article at some point, (they might go with my story or another woman's, they haven't decided yet) I can't link to it here, but if any of you would like to read it, make sure you email me at aurelia dot cotta at gmail dot com with your own email addy, or have one on your blog or something. (Yes, some of you may have to delurk...I promise I don't bite, no matter how nutty I sound here at No Matter How Small. Hmmm, maybe I should rename this place No Matter How Nutty. Whaddayathink?)

Which reminds me, how come some people don't have an email on their blogs? Not your real one, just a gmail or hotmail one? Makes life easier people....especially when something like this comes up!

Also, weird thing I noticed....a couple of people have switched to Beta Blogger and their feed disappeared and then was deleted from my bloglines because of it. I found them again and resubscribed, but you might want to check your lists. AJW5403 at My Pain I Hide was the blog that tipped me off. If you read her, make sure to resubscribe to her blog.

Off to buy groceries and venture into the freezing cold, my peeps. Have a good weekend!

Thursday, February 22, 2007

Nervous as all get out

I'm nervous because I am helping someone do some research for an article on infant loss and miscarriage and infertility, and I'm praying it works out. It won't be out for awhile, and I have no idea if I'll even be in it, btw. It may end up it has nothing to do with me, just the issue.

In fact, I'm so nervous, I'm like a cat on a hot tin roof. I'm worried it won't work out well, I'm worried it will work out perfectly, I'm worried I'll look like an idiot, I'm worried I will end up harming an issue so close to my heart.

I'm worried about what will happen next!!!!!!!

The reporter is lovely and kind and smart, the paper is a good one, the cause is noble.

But I'm quivering like a bowl of Jell-o.


Tuesday, February 20, 2007

How Thinking in Reverse Can Help Me Think Straight

Lots of weird thoughts have been swirling around in my head lately. Disjointed bits of things that seem to have no theme.

But there is a theme, sort of. And if I reverse or rephrase the situation it helps me to figure out why I'm uncomfortable. (Again, not saying anyone should feel the way I do, I'm not even sure I KNOW how I feel. I'm still fumbling in the dark on this stuff.) Which makes this a long rambling post...apologies. I'm going to continue and expand on more of the bits in the coming days and weeks, but this is what I've got today.

So a few thoughts for you. There is a lot of stuff in the blogworld, and real life, that pits women against each other. Breastfeeding vs. formula, ART vs. adoption, SAHM vs. WOHM, donor gametes vs. use your own genes, "real infertiles" vs. "only sort of infertiles", physical disabled, vs. mental disabled vs. "normal healthy people." (WTF is a normal healthy person, btw?)

You get the idea....

And all along we get mad at each other, instead of using my favourite political tactic, "Follow the money" or even "Let's fight the real enemy." (Pick any or all here, government, corporations, male run society, medical establishment, religious authorities...) Women do this to each other so much, I swear it boils my blood. I know I personally get triggered, and lose it, and later think, "WTF did I do/say/type this?" And the real jerks get away with it....and laugh their asses off at us. Don't believe me, see this . Should be mandatory viewing IMHO.

So, my first rewording is on Starbucks cup #208. The original text says:

"I wish couples who desperately take every means to conceive a child would realize that adoption is a wonderful alternative. A child who becomes your child through adoption completes a family. Just as when you commit to your spouse or partner there are no biological ties, yet a family was formed. This child enters a family the same way! It is not blood and flesh that form a family, but the heart."

(This reminded me of Pizza Hut and it's stupid campaign, which offended everyone in adoption, and IFers. They were smart enough to take it down pretty quick after some of us blogged about it. If you google it now, you can only see the site by clicking on cache.)

Just to make it really clear that this isn't about adoption or ART, but about why some mega corporation has a lot of nerve trying to tell the IF community and those involved in adoption how to live, a couple we had over for dinner helped me "rewrite" #208 for you.

Bob is a paraplegic, and Janet has female IF, and as a couple, they don't think Starbucks would ever put this on a cup:

"I wish paraplegics who desperately take every means to walk again would realize that wheelchairs are a wonderful alternative. A wheelchair that replaces your legs completes your body. Just as when you get in your car there are no bodily ties, yet a way to get around was formed. This wheelchair entered their lives the same way! It is not blood and flesh that form a body, but the heart."

As Bob said, "Any disease or social situation you insert here would end up offensive sounding, and if they wouldn't dare do it to me as a paraplegic, why should Starbucks do it to you?"

Do any other rewrite, like for breast cancer or gay marriage, or WHATEVER, and you will see why Starbucks was wrong, and we shouldn't be fighting each other, but them.

Another rewrite:

Unhelpful things to say to a woman who has had a miscarriage, or gone through IF:

"You're young, you can have other children"
"It probably would have been abnormal anyway"
"This was for the best"
"You're lucky you are alive"
"At least you didn't get to know it"
"It's over with now you can get on with your life."
"Better luck next time"
"Time heals all wounds"

"Why are you complaining, you have other children/ a good life / a husband / money?"
"Just adopt"

Society has become a little more aware and fewer people say these things anymore, but just 20-30 years ago, infertility was treated as if it was irrelevant, and infant loss never ever spoken of. Miscarriage under 20 weeks is still written off as less of a loss than over 20 weeks. We are now slowly getting some respect, but just barely.

Hmmm, respect, so what if we rewrote this for someone else? No one would say these phrases to a paraplegic or a cancer patient. Try to picture a Doctor saying to a woman with breast cancer, post-mastectomy, "This was for the best." Hmmmm, maybe not?

Can we try rewriting it for adoption now? Please?

"You're young, you can have other children" (To birth mothers)
"It probably wouldn't have had a good life anyway" (To birth mothers)
"This was for the best" (To birth mothers and adoptees)
"You're lucky you are alive" (To adoptees who have the nerve to be pro-choice)
"At least you didn't get to know it" (To birth mothers or adoptees)
"It's over with now you can get on with your life." (To birth mothers or adoptees)
"Better luck next time" (To birth mothers)
"Time heals all wounds" (To birth mothers and adoptees)
"Why are you complaining, you have other children/ a good life / a husband / money?" (To birth mothers and adoptees, throughout their lives)

"You should try IVF. Just do fertility treatment." (To adoptive parents)

Society has only very very recently begun to think about adoptees and donor kids who are not so grateful to have had their entire race, religion, genetic history, health history, culture, language, and geneology erased and rewritten by judges and social workers and Doctors. As an adoptee, I'm often told how I should feel about my childhood and parentage, even though I'm a 38 year old fully competent grown woman. No one would dare tell me how I should feel about any other thing in life. But adoption? Infertility? Miscarriages? Open season people...

What can help me as an adoptee feel respected? Open adoption helps a bit, and not having money involved helps. Open records and reunion helps a bit. Honest communication helps a bit.

But it will never be the same as if I was raised by my genetic parents. And it will never be the same for a birth mom or donor parent who doesn't raise her genetic child. Raising an adopted or donor child will never be exactly the same as if you raised genetically related children.

It will be different, not better or worse, but different. Why is saying that so threatening?

What is this myth that all families have always been exactly the same forever? Why do we pretend this mythical family structure is so perfect or desirable that we have to torture each other and shit on each other's feelings to retain the fantasy?

Minimizing the feelings of another person is never helpful, and never respectful, IMHO. In any situation in life. Whether it is adoption, or infertility, or cancer, or who we love. It can't just be about us, or our desires or fantasies. Truly becoming a full member of society requires us to stretch, and try to respect others' feelings of pain & joy, however incomprehensible they may be.

Corporations like Starbucks, or fertility clinics, or government/private adoption industries have a huge financial stake in making sure we are at each other's throats engaged in the Mommy Wars instead of analyzing their actions and motives. We need to analyze their real agenda, and ask more hard questions of them instead of assuming they are benign entities with our best interests at heart.

To sum up, when in doubt, rewrite the question. Does it work for other situations?

If not, maybe we need to rethink the whole idea. Maybe we need to fight the real power.

Saturday, February 17, 2007

Please think of Jenny

One of the bloggers I read, has suffered a miscarriage, her name is Jenny, and she has a blog at uterus monologues. This is a very sad moment for her and her husband, and I feel terrible for her. She needs some support from all of us in blogland. Her blog is password protected, but you can still see a front page, and can leave comments on one of the posts.

Or leave them here, and I'll make sure she see them.

This is so unfair...

Fish was Delish

I know revenge is a dish best served cold, but I served the fish hot Thursday anyway...we're having smoked salmon & cream cheese on bagels this morning, so that should serve the metaphor well for the weekend. And then steamed mussels for dinner..."So good for the children's brain growth dear."

And yes, I did go shopping, and bought some new MAC makeup, and got another charm for my bracelet, and decided which coffee table to buy. (No we don't own a coffee table, for some odd reason, we had one at one point, but not anymore. Stupid...)

I was considering having a whole trout on Sunday, head and tail attached, and then held off, because last night has changed a bunch of things. He came home, and before dinner said something quite bizarre about rearranging our finances. As if, somehow he was going to be the big hoo-ha who came in and saved the day after all these years of me balancing the books by standing on my head and grovelling to various bankers. I mean, shit, we've had financial problems for years, mostly due to circumstances beyond our control but also due to events like starting a new business, and the severe pay cut he took to do it.

If you look back to here, you will note that we have paid off a substantial amount of credit card debt, recently and we have some more to go....and this was how we kept ourselves afloat after he took a gigantic pay cut 2 years ago, when he left law and began working FT at his new financial venture. A pay cut so large, that no job I ever got could make up the difference, plus we lost our supplementary benefits, like drug and dental, pension, etc.)

(A side note to US readers, Canadian health care does not cover drugs except for the elderly or the poor, or for catastrophic drugs like immune therapy or cancer. Dental is limited for some poor and children and elderly. Yes, dumb...there's a whole national debate going on about this now, since they are realizing that drug coverage can keep people out of hospital. *eyeroll* I've only been saying this for freakin' years....)

Anywaaaay, so last night Mr.Cotta starts going on about how he could have done it better or some such BS...and I lose it because I think I've done pretty damn good considering we skated close to bankruptcy on numerous occasions, but never did, and now that we finally have some money and are breathing easy, he wants to waltz in and enjoy all the good times. At least that's how I see it.

So we have a fight, and blah blah blah about just about everything in our marriage, and lives, but no, not the big elephant in the room, our lost children. I end up crying, and we start really talking about trust issues and how that's our big problem, and I ask him to go to marriage counselling AGAIN. We went a few times and it was not so good. St.Husband is unwilling to admit that his issues are a factor. According to him, it's all me. This is a barrier as you can imagine...

In the end we are unresolved but decide that enough buttons have been pushed for one night, and we need to deescalate and go to bed. We cuddle a bit, drift off to sleep. Well, in the middle of the night, what happens? Someone wakes up and reaches over, and starts to REALLY try to make up with me.

And I go along...snicker.

Yes, I am a romantic, no I know it doesn't erase anything he and I had argued about, but it helps. It helps so much, we're not having trout.

The next time someone tells me that IF and pregnancy loss don't strain a marriage, please slap them for me, okay? I don't think it causes divorce, like that stupid theory every busybody spouts, but it sure doesn't make it easier. In reality, it brings every crack to the surface, and every awful sad thing that was already there, becomes harder to work through.

I have sign off now and go deal with the usual Saturday rigmarole of activities, wish me luck this weekend, okay?

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Lowered expectations....

Sing along with me now, anyone remember the skit from MadTV called "Lowered Expectations?" It was about a video dating service that catered to people who were not, ummm, easily able to get dates.

Like Ms. Swan here. Thing is, it doesn't just happen to the Ms.Swans out there, it can happen to anyone.

I really should lower my expectations of men...there are limits it seems to what they are willing or capable of. Like before I had kids and thought that I would always have a relationship where my "partner" would do half the childcare, half the housework, half the effort in maintaining the relationship.

I should have remembered that these speeches are the 21st century version of a pick-up line. And once they have you, married, or economically intertwined or pregnant, well, those ideas go right out the door don't they? Like, why do men think they deserve the Order of Canada for changing a diaper? Or doing the dishes? Or being romantic?

At our house, we don't celebrate Valentines Day in a huge way normally, but last week husband and I had agreed that we would celebrate it this year with a little romance. We had a bottle of pink champagne from New Years, just begging to be consumed. And we had talked about presents we would buy, and doing a little romantic thing together after the kids went to bed. (This required feeding them dinner the second we walked through the door, so we could get them to bed early, and be alone.) So I raised my expectations, a lot.

And when he didn't have my present in the morning, I just figured he was going out shopping during the day, but he wasn't. Same with the rest of the night...he eventually came home, presentless, dinnerless, and not even saying he was sorry. He was busy, "working". We ended up dragging the kids out for dinner, and getting them to bed late. We drank the champagne, but it wasn't exactly romantic, since we were watching TV and then I fell asleep waiting for him to come to bed. I'm supposed to understand, and say nothing, because he's providing a nice income, and running this new business.


It's not a zero-sum game. Just because he is working doesn't mean he can't stop by a store and pick up a card, or buy me a small present. We finally have some money. He walks by dozens of nice stores on the way home. There's this new thing called the INTERNET which allows men to send their wives roses any day of the year, with just a few clicks and a credit card.

There is no earthly reason why he couldn't come through, like he promised, except that he just doesn't think it matters. He thinks that no matter what he does, I'll still be here, keeping the home fires warm, dealing with the kids, and keeping our lives together. He takes me for granted.

Well, he's going to regret it today. I'm going to go out shopping, and commit serious bank account abuse, preferably on some things he will truly hate. And tonight....tonight will be fish night. He hates fish. Yes, passive-aggressive, but deeply satisfying, however temporary.

Reality is, he agreed to celebrate it, then screwed it up all by himself.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

So far...

Not such a lovey-dovey day. My husband has not bought me a present, or a card, or done anything. (I bought his present yesterday, and presented it to him this morning in bed.) I spent the entire day at the rink supervising family skating day, and later the hockey tournament. He worked from home all afternoon, and the last thing I said to him was, "Can you take something out for dinner and get it started so when I come home with the kids and we're all tired, we can eat right away?"

Came home, and nothing is here, no food, nothing taken out. Exhausted children are starting their homework. Husband nowhere to be found.

He has 5 hours and 48 minutes to redeem himself for V-Day, and I'll never forgive him for the dinner not being ready.

I'm going to call for takeout right now...I'm also thinking I might propose marriage to my cleaning lady.

At least she came through today. I seriously love her.

5 hours, and 45 minutes and counting....

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

blah blah blah

Little bits of silliness...surfing Youtube to distract myself from my neurosis, which I have decided only comes out at night.


I know a secret...a pregnancy secret of the blogosphere, and that person should tell everyone on their blog before I burst! Seriously happy for them...but shit, they can't JUST tell me only, gahhhh.


Went to my family doctor for a checkup yesterday, and she kept looking at me like I have 3 heads...possibly because I was so morose & blech. I think she ticked every damn box on the blood test requisition, but I can't go yet because I have to fast and book the bone scan for my osteporosis. (Yes, once again, TSH, free T3 T4, ferritin, B12, CBC, cholesterol, E2, FSH, LH, progesterone, fasting blood sugar, etc. etc. they'll have to hook up a freakin' IV, sigh...)

Plus, I was not very well-groomed. I had had a shower, but did not do much else. Sort of like when you are married to someone for along time, and you don't shave your legs in the winter anymore, or really worry about making sure everything is perfectly plucked and tweezed and waxed? Well, she's been my Doctor for a long time...and I'm not going in looking like Miss Perfect Patient Canada 2007, makeup & hair & all. It was nice visiting with her though, even if it was kind of a waste of time. I mean really, there isn't much she can do for me, right? I'm just too complicated.


Also, due to the disgusting illness state earlier this month, we aren't worrying about a 2ww this month, unless the immaculate conception happens, bwahahaha.


Oh, almost forgot, I may have a new template this week, and I need to fix some stuff, like spelling mistakes and labels that got mixed up, so at some point in the next week, my feed will be turned off for a day, and my site may come in and out while I'm replacing the background. Don't worry, I'm still here, we just may have a few hours of construction, ok? And if 35 old posts shoot through bloglines after I'm done just ignore it.

Have to go fold some laundry, boooooring....any good jokes, anyone?

Sunday, February 11, 2007

A new solution?

My bronchitis is better due to the massive amounts of antibiotics & steroids in my system. It is now safe to tell you that I was close to going to the hospital in the middle of the night last week, but thanks to laryngitis and multiple paralyzing muscle spasms I was unable to wake my husband up either by yelling, crying, or hitting, so he never knew, and I woke up alive, so here I am.

(No, he missed the part where I was gasping for breath and twitching 3 inches from his head half the night...cause he wakes up for every noise, she notes with slight sarcasm...)

But, I am MUCH better now, at least physically. Emotionally, slightly wonky. To answer a few queries from my last post,

Yes, DD it is healthier than the alternative, I agree; Adrienne, I had all sorts of dreams about how I imagined my life turning out, that deserves a separate post, it wasn't totally pollyanna aka out of reach, but, it wasn't this; Artblog, very cool about your brother, and yes, I have a shrink, and we talk about this, but it's not enough anymore, I need to be more open I guess.

And thank you all of you for your kind words...I'm just going to keep going and forge ahead, and hopefully fit in somewhere.

My current goal with therapy BTW, is doing EMDR to find a way to deal with all this mess in my head. I know it isn't proven with evidence-based medicine just yet, (lots of studies are underway, some finished) but I've done CBT and other types for years, to no avail. I know all the logical easy answers to why I feel the way I do, but it hasn't changed how I feel. So I'm looking for other answers now.

I've also looked into this new use for an old drug, propranolol, being used for PTSD and trauma. 60 minutes had a good story with a bad title, "A Pill to Forget, Can a medication suppress traumatic memories?" Of course, the pill does NOT erase or even fuzz memories at all. It does take the terror and anxiety away from the experience, allowing a little bit of detachment, so that the victim can stop having nightmares, depression, flashbacks, even regain a normal life. Supposedly, it blocks the adrenaline molecules from flooding the brain with adrenaline & altering therefore damaging the brain structure of the victim. It may work for immediate trauma, or trauma from the past, again something else they are studying.

There have been a few poorly done TV dramas on the subject, including a Boston Legal with a ludicrous storyline. I like that show usually, but this time----ehhh, no. They were actually trying to say it is better for society if trauma victims are still feeling their trauma, because this will help us be better, more compassionate human beings. I wonder if they'd tell a cancer victim to keep their tumour, or stay bald, and weak, and sick, you know for society's benefit?

Anyway, Mr.Cotta is out of town, so I'm off to do errands and take care of the kiddos while he is gone. Must fake it til I make it I guess.

I am a freak of monstrous proportions

I've spent the last 4 days afraid to post anything because I worried that no matter what I do, I'll offend someone, somewhere. I'm unusual because I enjoy having conversations with people I disagree with. I love debate, and learning new things, and challenging assumptions. Nothing turns my crank like a good brawl, verbal style. Or a good old-fashioned weepfest. I've dealt with the tragedies in my life by making sick awful jokes for yeeeaaars. It was either that or run screaming down the street ripping my hair out, as I've said many times.

I like to think that we can talk about these things, respectfully, possibly still disagree afterwards, but move on, and blogkiss and make up. I'll read you, you read me, and slowly but surely we blur the respective lines on our drawn in the sand positions, right?

I worry that I believe it but others, not so's why I've never signed up with that myblog service. I don't want normal people to know that a member of DBA has lurked on their blog. I actually have different online identities, just because some people become so incredibly uncomfortable with my "other" life, they won't speak to me about politics or entertainment or medical stuff. They just back away slowly, desperately wanting to avoid me.

So, on this blog, you are welcome to say whatever, ask whatever, do whatever, as long as you do it with respect in your tone, and no-one suggests my kids or me should be hurt, harmed, etc. as some of those pro-laffers do, okay? (Yes, really, they think no woman ever risks her life in's all "made up", so I refuse to play their bullshit games and debate with them). Anyone else, nadda problem....

For example, I don't like anonymous paid embryo, egg & sperm donation. Cause of the money paid and the anonymity, and a host of other issues I'll get into on another post someday, but if I swear to never judge any of you and keep reading you, and not leave any crappy comments on your blogs about it, even if you use donor gametes to create all your children, maybe you could do the same for me? Like maybe I WANT to say I hate these things right here on this webpage and cause it's my space I can say shit here? But I won't shit in your backyard, no matter how I feel?

And I'm nervous that won't work. I think because the stakes are so high, so life and death, so hormonally charged, that we can't do that with each other.

It's going to kill me to do it, and I know I'll come along and read someone someday who is doing something totally idiotic, medically harmful, or likely to cause disaster, and after losing three kids, I sort of feel like I get to say, "Are you out of your effin' mind? Take this Assvice, so you don't end up a freak of monstrous proportions like me, or have a child who is a freak of monstrous proportions JUST LIKE ME."

You see, I am a freak. Why, you ask? Well, because I don't truly fit in in any part of the real world or the blogosphere.

Don't misunderstand me, almost every single person I've met here in the computer has been wonderful, even after I pissed them off, or stepped on them, or said the exact wrong thing at the exact wrong time.

Political people NEVER mention personal stuff. If they do, it can ONLY be in relation to some irrelevant campaign they are starting up. Not anything anyone actually gives a flying fuck about, (unless of course, a focus group and multiple pollsters has confirmed it.)

My ADD has caused all sorts of problems for years, I finally got a degree, but not in an area I'll ever use IRL, and my ADD screwed up my transcript so I'm not sure how I'd go back for another one. Every time I get a job, I'm overqualified and deserve to move up, but can't get promoted because I screw up administrative things too badly. I lose papers, am late for things, can't figure out their *new* & *improved* computer system that is so simple and easy for everyone else to pick up. If I could move into a job where I start out with an assistant who could organize me from the get go, I could finally get some of these great ideas loose from my brain, but that will never happen... of course, I might get some help and understanding if I had a "real" disease, but who's kidding who, when you have been gifted with the media's pretend disease du jour, understanding rarely comes to your life.

I'm an adoptee, but I hated my adoptive parents, so I am wary of all adoptions...I've met my birth mother, and various relatives years ago. It was great, and very therapeutic, but after 12 years, I feel very very alone. I'm not the happy-ass adoptee all the adoptive parents want to talk to, and I'm not the reunion-is-heaven adoptee the rest of the triad fantasizes about.

I'm infertile, but since I have two kids now...I don't quite fit the conversation, do I? My children are not the "cure" for my infertility, whether they were attained through high-tech means or the traditional manner. Parts of my body will never function again properly. But it doesn't matter to someone starting out on the road. I'm not them anymore.

I have a weird affinity for medical and scientific and legal/policy stuff. I spend hours reading medical journals, case reports, PubMed till my eyeballs fall out, government and hospital policy documents, every damn word of the research on a drug before I take it. I average 350 articles a month and own medical textbooks. And not just on fertility & pregnancy, but on lots of stuff. I can quote chapter and verse on sleep disorders, MS, pediatrics, bone disorders, toxicology, study methodology. I've been to conferences and lectures on so many subjects, some people over at my local university think I'm a med student.

But I'm not. I'm just freak who can't figure out how to get the degree, or the job, or the professional credentials.

I'm just a housewife, with kids who are getting too old to need a mommy at home.

This is not how I pictured my life turning out. And I don't know how to stop being this freak.

Wednesday, February 07, 2007

A great way of putting it

Catnip has put up probably the best post EVER called Nitpicking a Nightmare, on the subject of trauma and expressing yourself and what we need to recover. The best quote of all,

"People who willfully ignore the trauma of others because it makes them uncomfortable to read the words, to look at the pictures, to think about the horrors, live in a world of dangerous illusions. What will they do when those horrors arrive on their doorsteps? Maybe then they'll understand why punctuation is the last thing that will be on their minds."

This is what Dear Abby needs to know, this is what the media and other bloggers need to know, and this is what we all need to deal with, whether we blog, write a diary, find a support group, or we talk with our friends.

This blog is my AA group, or in my case, DBA (dead babies anonymous) (AA - adoptees anonymous, IA - infertility anonymous, etc. etc.) I know it makes some people feel uncomfortable, but I can't help that, I need to express myself. One day at a time I'm trying to crawl out of a hole, a deep one. I'm using lots of tools and this is one of with it.

Catnip, you KICK ASS. *Smooches, dahling*

Well, I have some editing to do

My acronym list is getting longer and longer, and DD's list is awesome, check out How to Win Friends and Influence Your RE. I'll be linking to it and and fixing up my own list in the next day or are right about cycles longer than 28 days Dianne, I'm so used to horribly short cycles, I've forgotten it can be longer! Smacks forehead...

I have to update my blogroll also, I have some issue with bloglines not picking up various people's feeds, a blogline issue not anyone else, so I have been delinquent on commenting for some people. Probably because I'm still insanely sick, we've made it to official bronchitis status people! Yayyy, asthma puffers and antibiotics, the drug of choice, like champagne but not nearly as sexy.

Cough cough blech, gahhhhhh...back to lying down now, today hubs is taking over for hockey game duty. Yeah, this is what this is all about people, so you can lug hockey bags, watch someone shoot pucks at your kid, and fetch hot chocolate.

And every needle, every labour pain, every loss is worth it, to get even one live kid.

Damn I wish I was there.

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

Infertility/Pregnancy/Infant Loss/Adoption Acronyms

I'm going to put a link to this on my sidebar, after suitably updating it. I don't know all the acronyms, so help me please! Email, comments, etc. etc.

TTC - trying to concieve

2ww - two week wait

POAS - pee on a stick

NBHHY - nothing bad has happened yet

IVF - in vitro fertilization

IUI - intra uterine insemination

IF - infertility

MC - miscarriage

PG - pregnant

RE - reproductive endocrinologist

SW - social worker

AMom- adoptive mom

BMom - birth mom (I don't really use these last two, but I've seen them? any others preferred?)

DE - donor egg

DS - donor sperm, can also stand for dear son

DD - dear daughter, or blogger named DD (haha)

DH - dear husband, or damn husband depending on the mood of the blogger. (not me, nooooo, neeeveeerrr)

CD# - cd 1 is the first day of your period, or cycle day, etc. until CD28, when you are either PG or get AF (Aunt Flo) AKA the Crimson Bitch AKA your period.

HCG - human chorionic gonatropin - pregnancy hormone , injectible as a trigger shot or the amount of hormone measured in your blood, as in beta hcg.

FSH - follicle stimulating hormone, measured on Day 3 meant to be 10 or less. over 40 is menopause

LH - luteinizing hormone - hormone that peaks around ovulation

E2 - Estrogen - specifically estradiol

POF - premature ovarian failure, or premature menopause

PCOS - polycystic ovarian syndrome

ADs - antidepressants

stims - injectible meds used to stimulate the ovaries.

Meds - any medication

US - ultrasound

Dildocam - transvaginal ultrasound

PGD - preimplantation genetic diagnosis

Babydust - something that does not exist on this bitter effin blog

Any more?

Can't give in to the dark side

Nooobooody loves me, eeeverybooody hates me----gonna go out and eat worms...sigh

I am so sick that I am incapable of seeing the good side of ANYTHING right now. I'm really trying, I swear. I told my Doctor yesterday that I have never actually felt this bad with a cold, cause usually I get a little symptom relief from the over the counter stuff, like m0trin or tylen0l, or pse*doephedr!ne...(BTW, did you know that you can no longer buy that stuff without DM, even though DM doesn't work...apparently it's because they think all of us boring middle class moms are going to sell it to crooks, never mind that the volume needed to cook m3th is impossible to get from like even a zillion visits to pharmacies, gahhh. And yes, all the crooks would NEVER keep DM in their m3th, they only want high quality for their customers...*eyeroll* apologies for siderant.)

So I'm ignoring a certain post, and comments which sent me into a good long cry yesterday. I know it wasn't intended that way...but it's just not funny to me. I'm sure all the adoptees and birth moms will get why I'd be sad over it. I know the rest of you won't understand why, I'm sorry, it's just how I feel, I can't lie about it on my own blog.

*Edited to add, basically as an adoptee, I believe it is never a good choice to donate embryos for someone else to adopt. Melt or donate to research is fine. I just can't deal with the whole anonymous thing when adoptees everywhere have been trying to find their parents for years. IMHO, no difference, sorry guys, you don't have to agree with me, just know it's how I PERSONALLY feel.*

And I'm trying to ignore this hideous poorly researched nightmare commentary by a woman named Margaret Somerville. (She thinks she is the cat's meow of ethics in Canada, but really she's just a pro-life bigot who hates gays. But worse, than that, she pretends to know "science." Google her name, you won't believe it.) The accompanying Globe article isn't bad except for the part where they say prenatal diagnosis is all about Down's. And according to them Down's isn't a problem, easy peasy...that whole 90% death rate prior to birth...ehh, an inconvenient thing they ignored. And Trisomy 18? Gah...what's that? Or how about all of the other hundreds of lethal birth defects, that endanger women's lives during pregnancy from the deformed placentas? Nope, not bothering to mention them... Much more convenient to judge me and kick me and every other woman who has had to make that difficult decision.

My favourite quote from Somerville, "We're going to be able to detect genes for manic depression, but many of our great artists are manic depressives. It's linked to creativity." Really Marg, I thought it was called bipolar illness, and that the fabled link to artistic endevours had been disproven. Never mind that bipolar illness is easily controlled and treatable, and finding just one gene for it, like someday, say 30 years from now, is highly unlikely.

Never mind that women who terminate pregnancies are almost always dealing with FATAL birth defects, not treatable, fixable issues. Why not muddy the waters with a gratuitous throwaway line? I think it's because it will make all the women who terminate pregnancies the bitches with the scarlet A on their chest.

Nothing like waking up and being called a eugenicist to really get your crank going in the morning, huh?

But I can't.think.about.that, lalalalalala, must take more cold medicine and watch stupid TV shows....I know I will feel better when this cold lifts.

Monday, February 05, 2007

Well, it had to happen sooner or later, right?

We are sick, me and Big Son, and Little Son is looking sicker all the time. So far husband has avoided it, but he'll be here in crummy illness world soon.

I thought Big Son just had a cold...but the fever, malaise, serious stuffiness, and hideous pain in the throat have convinced me otherwise. Like fever of 102, which barely goes down with m0trin, and a searing pain the throat, that makes me think he & I both swallowed ground glass.

Yes, I have it as well, but since mothers are not allowed to EVER get sick, (is this a law or something, geez?), I am up, making breakfast, calling the Doctor about arranging swabs of the throat for us all, and generally trudging through it all.

In the meantime, go visit Kathy at Motherhood and Angels. She has discovered that Dear Abby has written (as of today's date, sorry no permalinks) an inappropriate response about a woman who lost a baby, and wrote Dear Abby back correcting her. If you read Dear Abby and want to respond as well, then do it please. Treating women who have lost their children with dignity & respect is the first step back to mental health for many of us. It can make all the difference between eventual healing or falling into the pit of despair.

I've been in that pit, and it's a bad place. Dear Abby shouldn't be helping to push someone down there. Give us a hand up instead Abby!

Saturday, February 03, 2007

I have to get back to my routine

I realized that I'm not sticking with my vitamins, and my house is in disarray, and my schedule is seriously messed up.

This is causing me to be slightly nuttier than usual, if you couldn't tell. Ahem.

Soooo, back to routine, and hopefully, calm, orderliness tomorrow. Not all in one day, mind you, but one day at a time, and soon I will be zen, and stop leaving goofy comments on other people's blogs!

I also feel much better about using my Apollo Golite now that I know DoctorMama has endorsed using them. My therapist always did, and I knew lots of head doctors like them, including my sleep specialist, and the neurologist I saw once. But all the family docs and my friends laughed at it.

Plus, I have to admit I have felt like a jackass suggesting them to other bloggers, even though I know they work. And no, it's not just placebo effect. Check out the link to studies that Apollo has on it's website. Or just read up about how Russia is having a major crime and mental health crisis during the gloomiest winter ever. They have no sun, and barely any snow to reflect the sun back at them. Just blechy dirty brown snow and mud. So moods are getting crummier...this is also true here in Canada IMHO.

So, off to take my calcium and D. Maybe hubs will let me snuggle my freezing feet into his back tonight? (Gently, so the toe doesn't hurt....but still, he is a lot warmer than me! Are all men warmer than women?)

Friday, February 02, 2007

Inflame me a little more please

This post and the accompanying comments have set me off. I keep trying not to think about those sextuplets, because everytime I do I just lose it. Julie did a good job I think of saying all the things that needed to be said. Problem is that I: A. read the news voraciously so when I speak to various politicians I'm fully overinformed, B. people who know a little inside stuff have also gone through IF and losses and need to talk to someone and C. I'm still in agony over the deaths of my own children.

Grief + wine + TMI = shoot your mouth off sometimes.

To fill in a few blanks in my story I've been unable to bear writing yet:

After Matthew - infertility, hormonal rollercoaster, luteal phase dysfunction

Pregnancy # 3 - miscarried at 4.5 weeks. BFP then BFN.

Pregnancy # 4 - my six year old son, sleeping upstairs, high-risk pregnancy, high-risk birth, and a miracle on earth.

A few years later - premature ovarian failure, FSH through the roof, osteoporosis

Pregnancy # 5 - Miracle Baby, she made it to 12 weeks, until her placenta gave out.

Pregnancy # 6 - miscarried at 4 weeks 2 days, BFP then BFN.

Pregnancy # 7 - My daughter who made it to 16 weeks, until her placenta died, once again, due to my clotting disorder. You may remember her from this story.

Since then, I have had another laparoscopy for endometriosis, made multiple attempts at getting pregnant, and humiliated myself in public on endless occasions with various politicians trying to get some help, compassion, and funding for the the IF community and grieving parents like myself.

Yes, I have a few emotions here. Just a couple...

You can see what I wrote over at Julie's, but to sum it all up, that father's quote, "(My wife) and I could not bear to be at the hospital while they were violating our little girl."

"Violating", as if to you a blood transfusion is equivalent to assault?

Well, buddy, can we trade places? Cause my little girls are in the cemetary, and if the biggest problem we had was risking eternal damnation, I'd take their supposed place in hell, and they could have my spot in heaven. If you really loved your daughter, you would NEVER have left her side during that transfusion. You would have held her hand and prayed for her to live, no matter how much "sin" was surrounding you.

See that one quote, that unnecessary pithy piece of shite in the court papers, has convinced me that you are only concerned with yourself, with covering your ass with the Church hierarchy. With making sure that everyone knows how goddam devout and obedient you are. Well, rest assured, as this article makes clear, your butt is covered, your soul safe.

Unless you were all wrong to begin with.

Broken Bits

So, I have a hairline fracture in some bone in my left big toe. (great toe?) Mostly it is a soft tissue injury, which is why apparently why I still can't move it all on my own. I can move the toe by touching it with my hand, but not all on it's own.

So I've taken some motrin with (ahem) a glass of wine. Yep, I'm evil, shoot me, but I'm in pain. I swear Nicole I'll be compliant with the calcium & D starting tomorrow. And Anonymous, really citrical? Most of the stuff in juice I've seen seems to be from dairy products, a no no for me, but I'll look again. Next time, leave a name, even a pseudonym, cause I feel silly calling you anonymous! Ha ha from a woman with a fakey name on the internet! groan...

So I'm back to icing and elevating and taping it to my other toe. And limping.

The next time someone tells you that shrivelled up ovaries are no big deal if you don't want to have kids, feel free to point out this blogpost to them.

Swiss cheese bones suck.

Comments are working again!

Yes, my comments are working again...effin' blogger outages...I know they are trying, but how come typepad or wordpress never seem to be out? Or is is just my perception?

So yes, I broke my big toe. I have osteopenia, now osteoporosis as a result of premature ovarian failure, (premature menopuase for those of you new to my blog). Estrogen depletion and a severe case of lactose intolerence have combined to make me susceptable to broken bones. I've had many broken toes before, usually little ones, but this is worse, because I can't bend my big toe at all, and my left foot is now swollen up.

I'm off to get it x-rayed, hopefully I need nothing more than rest and ice if it's minor, but I have a bad feeling about this one...probably nothing but paranoia. I'll update later if it turns out to be something. Ehhh...

Anyway, I guess I'm back to mainlining calcium and vitamin D with my fortified soy milk. I keep thinking it probably won't help, and the stuff tastes so awful and chalky, I tend to be non-compliant at best. I even take it separately from my other vitamins & stuff, because it's supposed to be the right way to do it. Arggh.

Any thoughts, suggestions, assvice?

Thursday, February 01, 2007

brain haiku

blinding headache

winter blahs

broken blogosphere

face on floor

broken toe

Hi y'all!

Liberal Catnip has linked to me after much brouhaha started by a very nice man named Warren Kinsella over female bloggers in the Canadian blogosphere this week. Hi Catnip!! \/\/\/\/ (That's me waving....hehe) In honour of her sending me linky love, (and calling me a Smart Canadian Female Blogger) this is one I had stuck in drafts, and I'm pressing publish, just so y'all can see why the personal really is political.

Dear Stephane Dion,

Until a few weeks ago, I felt alone in the Liberal Party, since I believe I may be one of the only Liberals to ever admit publicly to being infertile, or to speaking publicly about my pregnancy losses. One in four women in Canada will go through a miscarriage, stillbirth, or neonatal death in her lifetime, & one in five Canadians will experience the disease of infertility.

Yet somehow, I'm one of the few who would say it out loud. Statistically, at least 22 male MPs in the House of Commons must have low counts or non-functioning sperm. And at least 20 of the women MPs must have reproductive problems that have caused infertility or pregnancy loss, but except for private conversations, quiet rumours, and a few unwilling outings I'm the lonely only. Doesn't seem logical, does it?

Until the recent profile article in Macleans, and this article in The Globe & Mail a few weeks back. In them, you discussed openly your infertility with your wife and the adventure of adopting your daughter from Peru. (No, I know you didn't say which one of you was infertile, or if it was both of you, but it doesn't matter to me.) You talked about parenting after infertility and your refusal to abdicate your responsibility to Jeanne when governments came calling, and careers beckoned.

You & your wife came out.

And I'm not the only one anymore.

Thank you, thank you, thank you from the IF community.

It's so nice when the personal and the political go together so well, isn't it?

Signed, your new biggest fan,