Do You Like Green Blilt Squares Like Sam?
This will not do
To make this next blilt
For me and for you.
A gigantic blilt of assvice galore!
Just adopt, just relax, vacations and more!
Each square provides a snicker
Or a roll of the eyes.
Then click on the words
For a big blog surprise.
But send them when you get a
moment;
Send them I say
Pass along your assvice
Please do not delay
Perhaps you’re scared your words are not clever;
Maybe they’ve already been submitted by Heather.
How amusing it can be
To read advice a second time
(especially if you’re having a glass or two of wine).
Do not stress inside your head.
That is supposed to be funny
To blow away grey skies
And bring back the sunny
So send me your words
Please don’t be shy
Just send me a slice
Of delicious advice pie.
Um…so…when you get a second…um…could you send me a square for the next blilt…because…um…I’m having a crappy this-cycle-was-a-bust-and-I-don’t-even-need-to-test-to-know-it sort of a day. And not that it should sway you from whatever you’re doing, but I’m weepy and hormonal.
April 25, 2007 Comments Off on Do You Like Green Blilt Squares Like Sam?
The Third Blilt
The next blilt and its unraveled counterpart are up below this post. Thank you to everyone who sent a square (and keep sending them, I’ll add to it whenever I have new squares). Hopefully, it’s looking a little more quilty. What do you think of the six block squares? The advantage is that it’s easier to read the quilt as a whole and it looks a bit more quilty. The disadvantage is that the smaller squares mean fewer words. I’m sorry that I had to edit a few squares in order to make them fit. I apologize if anyone is upset–I tried to add the missing words whenever possible to the unraveled entry. Please weigh in and let me know what you think of the new look. If people don’t like the smaller squares, I can switch back to the larger ones, but I can only fit two in each row with the larger squares.
So go click on the squares and let me know if you get together with a bunch of bloggers to play my drinking game. As long as you promise not to cheat and drag the mouse over the square, you could probably even play over IM. But definitely do click over and see the larger stories of everyone who contributed.
If you’re new to the blog and have no idea what I’m talking about when I use the word “blilt,” look below at the virtual blog quilt we created on the waiting inherent to infertility and pregnancy loss. Then contribute a square to this next blilt.
Which is this…
Everyone receives a boatload of advice on how to get knocked up when they’re having difficulty conceiving or experiencing a loss. This next blilt will celebrate your favourite advice received during the journey (“favourite” being said in a sarcastic tone–I have another blilt coming up that will actually take kind and helpful words into consideration). I’d like this blilt to contain everything–from the more common ones such as “why don’t you adopt” and “it was meant to be” to the bizarre warnings and offers. Don’t worry if you don’t have a crazy story to tell–it’s important to include ones that are heard by almost everyone. But if you do have a crazy story to tell, make sure you include the longer version for the unraveled entry. Again, don’t worry if you already see that “just relax” has been submitted–submit your own “just relax” and we can have similar squares on the blilt. I think it’s important to also see how often some advice is doled out…
If we’re going with the 6-block squares, we can fit under 10 words (so this is a little bit like writing a haiku–pare down the advice to a few words since you can write as much as you wish in the unraveled entry). If we go with the two squares per line (like the first blilt), we can fit under 15 words. To be on the safe side for this next blilt since I have no idea which way we’ll go (with the 6-square block like the second blilt or the 2-blocks per line look of the first blilt), better be safe and try to get it under 10 words.
The system from the second blilt worked wonders to get everything entered quickly. So please send your contribution in this format:
- Words for the blilt
- Url of your blog or email address if you don’t have a blog (or let me know if you wish to have your square unlinked)
- Any additional thoughts for the Blilt Unraveled entry
Oh…and if you still don’t know what the hell I’m talking about and you haven’t scrolled past this entry to see the actual blilt, here is the explanation of the Blilt Project.
April 24, 2007 Comments Off on The Third Blilt
The Waiting Blilt
This is the Waiting Blilt, the second of many virtual quilts that stand as a testament to the experiences of the infertility and pregnancy loss community. These are the unique reactions to single moments in a journey. Whenever possible, the squares of the quilt are linked back to the author’s blog or email address. This gives the viewer a chance to connect with a like-minded person experiencing infertility or loss and read more of their story. Therefore we encourage you to click on any square and learn more about the author’s story. Take a moment to leave them a comment. Like an actual quilt, the Blilts have a chance to share a moment of warmth between two unrelated individuals.
Contribute your own reaction to the many periods of waiting inherent in infertility and pregnancy loss in the comments section. The Blilt projects are always open and we will be continually adding to them as new words come along from future members of the infertility and pregnancy loss community. Click on the hyperlinked words in order to learn more about the Virtual Quilt Project and how you can contribute.
April 24, 2007 Comments Off on The Waiting Blilt
The Waiting Blilt Unraveled
The squares on the quilt only represent part of the story. Read below to hear the larger reaction of each stirrup queen or sperm palace jester when they consider the many periods of waiting inherent to infertility and pregnancy loss (the two week wait, waiting to cycle, and waiting for results are just a few). Contribute your own thoughts about waiting in the comments section. The Blilt projects are always open and we will be continually adding to them as new words come along from future members of the infertility and pregnancy loss community. Click on the hyperlinked words in order to learn more about the Virtual Quilt Project and how you can contribute.
That’s where I am right now – waiting to cycle. Marking time. Desperately trying to focus on our upcoming vacation… home projects… filling out paperwork, gathering medical files for our second opinion… planning a blogger reunion. Trying to forget that I lost what could have been our child almost exactly a year ago. And trying to ignore the nagging belief that I’m no closer to having a family than I was a year ago (from Serenity Now!).
I learned the hard way that letting myself get excited only leads to heartache. I hide my HPT’s so that my husband doesn’t know that I’ve POAS. I finally realized that I can’t be POAS-crazy because that’s letting hope get the best of me. Focusing on what I have and how lucky (truly lucky, I know that) I am to have it are what gets me through (from Search for Biscuit 2.0).
Diagnosis was easy, one little surgery to chop out the endo and make my womb welcoming. It didn’t work, and my insurance company doesn’t care. And to preserve any bit of fertility I may have, I’m on birth control, the exact opposite of everything I want. A year of waiting, which may end with no new options: this might have to be the life I live forever. I try so hard to find the good in it, but it’s like doing extra chores as a kid to save up money for a new bike–only worth it because of the end result. I don’t know if I can handle it if there is no end result (from Making Toy Soldiers).
I distract myself by obsessing about baby things. Baby gear, baby books, baby diapers. Or maybe obsessing over my upcoming cycle(s), planning dates and keeping detailed notes on every. little. thing. But I just have to keep focusing on the good things… there are too many fears lurking right below the surface (from Relaxing Doesn’t Make Babies).
When I am waiting, whether between cycles, or during a cycle, or a two week wait, it’s easy for everything not fertility related to feel like pointless filler that’s just dragging on and on. At the same time, I can’t believe how long I’ve been trying. Over two years have gone by with nothing to show for it (from Southern Infertility).
Perhaps there is no single word or emotion that can capture the myriad of emotions that stream through my mind between tests. The waiting between appointments feels like an eternity, and I busily attempt to distract myself as I wait for the results. After my very first test, my hopes of an easy fix were shattered. The hope that I felt between my first blood draw and HSG dissipated when I learned that I have a bicornuate uterus. It was replaced with anxiety and fear. Now, I find myself once again waiting between tests, and I am both nervous and excited. What can I say? My tornado of emotions continues to spin (from Are We There Yet?).
When my ovulation was confirmed via ultrasound the day after I ovulated with no signs, I was given the choice to go through with a late IUI or do a natural cycle or abstain completely and wait it out. I turned down the late IUI, but I was on the fence about waiting or a natural cycle. My instincts said wait, but my impatient self said “go natural.” So, we went with the natural cycle. As I was in the two week wait, I had this nagging instinct that I had made the wrong decision–I should have waited the cycle out. Of course, my instincts were proven right when I got that BFP then started bleeding shortly after. I should have waited… But, the mixed blessing in this is that I know now why I am miscarrying–had I followed my instincts, would I have found out why I am miscarrying? (from My Many Blessings).
The waiting is never easy for me. You would think that after trying for so long I would get used to waiting, but I never really do. However, when I am waiting and not doing something, I do have days of utter despair and hopelessness, but I have many more days of just allowing myself to think that my happy ending is coming. To see the signs and push on. I said that I allow myself the privilege because that is how I think of it, that when I think the good thoughts I am allowing myself to enter the “club,” to make myself one of the crowd. To believe I belong there (from Kir’s Corner).
My loss is so recent that I still can’t be around pregnant women. I avoid newborns and conversations of pregnancy. Now I am pregnant again and I am scared. I don’t want to lose another baby. I am having difficulty getting excited or even hopeful. Even once I make it past the 10 week mark, I now know I won’t be safe until the baby is born and even then something may happen (from Diary of a Miscarriage).
I find I don’t have a ‘system’ anymore like distracting myself, POAS (or not) or thinking positive…each day of the two week wait feels as though I’m moving closer and closer to my execution (okay, that may be an exaggeration…but it definitely gets me closer and closer to the death of my hopes and dreams about parenthood)…I’m glad I still get to wait, in a general sense, but I dread every fucking minute of it… (from You’re Still Young!).
Every cycle I can describe as hurry up and wait. There was the wait to meet with the RE, the wait for the next period, the wait for the test results, the wait for the surgery, and on and on. We couldn’t make plans more than two or three days out because we were always waiting for something. Yesterday, I waited and waited for my test results. Today, I’m waiting for my sono appointment tomorrow. Then, more waiting. And all of that on top of the years of waiting to be pregnant. I’m tired of waiting (from Our Own Creation).
I am so excited and hopeful right now as we get ready to start a new cycle. We’re adding injectibles this time, which comes with its own worries, but does add a little more hope that it might actually WORK this time. Even with that hope in my heart, there is still a huge block of dread in my head telling me that it won’t work, or if it does, I’ll end up with another miscarriage. With infertility, there’s no hope without dread (from Karaoke Diva).
I use reverse psychology: I really don’t want another baby. It doesn’t matter what kind of “wait.” It could be the two week wait; it could be the wait before starting up stims; it may even be the moment before I use the HPT. Even after two years of using this exercise, I’m just as devastated when I find out that there WON’T be another baby from the failed cycle, which proves my reverse psychology makes me a blatant liar (from TKO…More or Less).
It’s all about waiting, waiting for ovulation, the two week wait and then waiting again. Life seems to be on hold waiting for the baby we want so desperately before it can start again (from Third Time Lucky).
I count days, recount days, days post ovulation, days until I can pee on a stick, calculate if pregnant when I would be due, calculate if not pregnant every step of the next cycle. I rehearse Plan A, Plan B, Plan C of possible scenarios. I think about Schrodinger’s Cat (from The I Word).
I can spend an entire workday staring at my charts and notes from previous cycles. It’s a ridiculous waste of time. My rational side is perfectly aware of how CRAZY I’m behaving, but by 9DPO, even my rational side has given in (from Peace of Mind Is All I Want).
I’ve been realizing more and more lately that we’re in this for the long haul. I thought at first that we might get pregnant quickly with treatment, but now we’re on our fifth medicated cycle. I’m trying to take control of my life in other ways and trying not to let infertility rule me. I’ve realized that I don’t want to look back on years of my life and realize that I was unhappy all the time due to our struggles. There are times I will be sad, yes, but I want there to be more times that I feel peace and joy (from Southern Comfortable).
I do research for a living, so it’s so hard not to go crazy with it now. Any papers that may have relevant information are on my desk, websites are bookmarked, and books are bought/borrowed. I read every minute I have time. When I’m not reading, I sit and knit–at least I’m creating something that way (from A Sibling for Celia).
Every time I have allowed myself to hope for something to go well, it crashes and burns. Surely this surgery will be the cure. Surely it’s just a minor setback. Everything has gone so well this cycle, maybe just maybe this is the time! It seems that optimism only breeds disappointment, while pessimism… Well, I still wind up disappointed, but it’s a shorter trip (from Tomorrow is Another Day).
I feel like I’m wasting so much time just waiting to get started. I don’t know if I’m what would be considered infertile, but I do know that I have low progesterone or borderline ovulation so I am going to be using Clomid. It drives me crazy waiting because what if it takes a long time and I’m already almost 37. What if Clomid doesn’t work and I have to move on to something else, then what? (from I Want to Be a Mommy).
I fully resign myself to IVF psychosis from ER to beta. So let’s see… characteristics of a psychotic person… 1) loss of contact with reality (like thinking I am rational? check) 2) personality changes (check, check!!) 3) disorganized thinking (check) 4) delusional thinking (ooo, like thinking my ferts will actually become viable blasts? check). I think the only one I am missing is hallucinations…I do believe I hear my husband yelling “check” from the othe
r room 🙂 (from Rotten Eggs).
After the last time I thought I was pregnant and was subsequently stunned by the negative beta, I decided to try to hope, but not give in to expectation–even when all the symptoms are there and it would be so easy to believe. I’m still not ready to give up hoping that “this time could be the miracle,” but to protect my heart, I have to stop expecting it to happen. The disappointment is way too devastating (from This is NOT What I Ordered).
It helps me to manage my hope if I pretend that there isn’t any chance of this working. Someone said recently that fertile women don’t give this much emotional reserve to the two week wait, so why should we? I agree with that, and I’m trying to not obsess over it anymore (from Outlandish Notions).
After two years, one late miscarriage, two early miscarriages, failed treatments and heartache, I am unreasonably hopeful that this one will stick. I wish I could go to sleep and wake up in my second trimester with a healthy fetus (from Scrambled Eggs).
We had a sonogram done to confirm the latest pregnancy. We saw a pregnancy sac with nothing in it and we felt the floor drop from underneath us. I was 99% certain that this meant I’d be scheduling another d&c, but the doctor wanted to wait a week and check again, just to be absolutely sure. I left almost all hope in the hands of everyone else, although a tiny little sliver kept me from completely giving in. It was such a haunting week. I felt disconnected from everything around me; trying to convince myself to face reality while still holding onto the impossible chance that reality could be wrong. Impossibility did triumph, and I know that I’ve never been more elated- I reclaimed my heart a week later when we saw a tiny beating (beautiful) blob (from Well, Now That We’re Here).
During the wait, the two week wait, the wait to cycle, and the wait for results, I panic about being successful and grieve about failures. I wish that it wasn’t like this and I cry–I cry a lot (from From Here to Maternity).
I can convince myself of anything–that it is all for naught and I’m foolish to think it will work or that the due date will be on… (from The Egg Timer).
I feel helpless, there is nothing else I can do but second guess myself and pray that there is still hope. It is the worst part of the entire process, moreso than the shots and vaginal ultrasounds and even surgery (from Sean and Mary’s Family).
As the donor for my close friend, I know how much is hanging on this cycle. I panic I will do something wrong that will stop it from working (from Have Eggs, Will Share).
When bad news looms, your mind goes round and round in circles. You know it’s inevitable, but you still hope for a reprieve (from Beaten, But Not Bowed).
April 24, 2007 Comments Off on The Waiting Blilt Unraveled
Mooring
It’s called nesting when you start frantically making changes to your house before the baby arrives. But what is that grasp for control called when you start doing frantic cleaning prior to or during fertility treatments?
People nest because they are preparing a space for an actual baby. There are the logistics–preparing a place for the baby to sleep or cleaning up lingering projects that you know will be further pushed to the wayside once the baby arrives. And there is the emotional side of it too–it makes the arrival of the baby feel more tangible and concrete. Nesting is our way of making a special space before a baby arrives and it’s the last vestige of calm before the storm of a new life in the house. The driving impulse is to take care of the small things now because once the baby arrives, you’ll wish you had everything in place as your world it turned upside down.
But there is a form of nesting that comes with fertility treatments. The first time around, I began this frantic cleaning and organizing around month nine–the month when we started learning that perhaps there was something wrong. Josh would come home and everything would be out of the closet. “I’m organizing,” I would tell him, simply putting the items back in a more dignified order. Two chapters of my unfinished dissertation and five drawers filled with notes and drafts took up the corner of our second bedroom–the bedroom that was supposed to contain a child. One afternoon, I dumped all of the pages into industrial-strength trash bags and dragged them over to the garbage room in the building. “I don’t need them anymore,” I explained. “I’m never going back to complete that and besides, hopefully we’ll have a baby in there and we’re going to want room for a glider.”
The cleaning didn’t just affect my own apartment. I went to Detroit a few days after learning that I produced almost no progesterone in the second part of my cycle. “You’re not going to be able to carry a pregnancy without some help,” my OB explained over the phone as I sat in a Starbucks, trying to grade student papers. A huge snow storm hit the East Coast while I was there and I was stuck in Detroit for an additional three days. On the first day, I watched old episodes of ER on TNT. I walked to a bookstore and bought an anthology of pregnancy stories to see if I could glean any information from another person’s attempts at trying to conceive (oh…blogs…where were you when I needed you?). On the second day, I started the cleaning. I bleached the bathroom that was already spotless. I dusted the surfaces that had obviously been dusted prior to my arrival. I found the motherlode of organization as I took apart her vacuum cleaner, cleaning out every nook and cranny. My Lady-When-Waiting came home for lunch to find me surrounded by dust-covered paper towels and vacuum parts, sobbing hysterically. “Do you think,” she asked gently, “like it might be a good idea to go talk to someone about this? I mean, since you’ve gotten to a point where you’re taking apart my vacuum cleaner for something to clean.”
It’s nesting when you believe that you need to prepare for a real baby. The cleaning–it’s all a grasp for control when you don’t believe you will ever have an actual baby (or another baby in the case of secondary IF). It’s mooring–a desperation to attach yourself to something more stable so you don’t float away. An anchoring of sorts when you feel as if you are surrounded by chaos. It’s not supposed to be like this. I’m supposed to be able to make a baby.
This mooring, like nesting, can take different forms for different people. It’s nesting when you take a prenatal yoga class, strengthening your body for the demands of labour. But what does one control when their time in the stirrups usually involves a catheter or prewashed sperm? I exercised, waking an hour before I needed to leave for work so I could run on the treadmill. I couldn’t control conception, so I turned to the closest thing–controlling my weight and my body. I’m sure there are other forms of mooring that other people have clung to as they navigate the waters of infertility and loss.
This weekend, I cleaned the living room. The stacks of paper that surrounded my desk? All gone–tucked into drawers, filed, or trashed. The books that were making it impossible to sit on one side of the sofa? All gone–returned to the library or reshelved on the bookshelves. One hundred post-it notes have been crumpled or saved. Even as I’m cleaning out boxes that don’t need cleaning, I’m searching for the next project. Should I tackle my recipe binder, with hundreds of unfiled recipes stuffed in between pages? Should I clear out the kitchen drawers and send my brother all of the equipment that we never use?
Should I prepare the final bedroom again? Clear out the flippers and snorkels in the closet? Mend the clothes that have been tossed on the guest room bed? Empty the drawers of old sweaters and t-shirts to make room for small onesies, receiving blankets, caps.
Do I believe there will ever be a child in that room?
This mooring, this cleaning and organizing, is what keeps me from floating away.
April 23, 2007 Comments Off on Mooring
