tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59950095413887313162024-03-12T18:09:07.719-07:00Pregnant PauseInfertility from the Inside OutAmandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03449939505555010004noreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995009541388731316.post-55947028293895923302015-01-26T21:37:00.000-08:002015-01-26T21:38:28.895-08:00Matched. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://i3.cpcache.com/product/888229426/heart_maine_patches.jpg?height=225&width=225" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://i3.cpcache.com/product/888229426/heart_maine_patches.jpg?height=225&width=225" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;" /></a></div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 16.8666667938232px; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><span lang="EN">You've lived a life I can't even imagine, giving me the life I've only imagined. </span></i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><span lang="EN">Your tears of loss turn mine to tears of joy.</span></i></blockquote>
<blockquote>
<i><span lang="EN">You are my son's birth mother, and you are giving birth to my motherhood.</span></i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><span lang="EN">We have never even seen your faces, but your lives have forever changed ours.</span></i></blockquote>
</blockquote>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;">How do I begin to say thank you? </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;"><b>My words fail...miserably.</b><u></u><u></u></span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;"> </span></div>
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<span lang="EN">Until a few days ago, you were an abstract to me - my own perceptions floating through my consciousness, convincing my mind's eye that I knew what you would be like, what your story </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;">would be, how you would react to me.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN">And then I heard your voice. I heard your words. I feel the history of your young lives enveloping me, soothing my anxieties and quieting my doubts.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN">How can I say thank you?<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">I do not know if you could quite understand what your gift means to us. I will never be able to describe it. I do not know if you think of this as the truly, remarkably selfless act that it is. I could never articulate how it feels. You say you are astounded by our act of love, by our open arms and hearts. And I say your gift is the final piece of our existence, your acceptance the final peace we've been seeking.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">How can we show you?<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">His history will never be shrouded, will never be blank. He will know this journey that brought four lost people together to this point of clarity, this partnership, along these two paths immeasurably different yet converging at the same place and in the same moment. You will never be a question mark for him. He will know of the great sacrifices, the unnameable love that knits our separate threads together to hold him up throughout his life. He will hear it in our words and also in yours.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN">Few people get to experience this relationship we are cultivating for the sake of one life. What a remarkable way to raise a child. What a spot of true beauty, true purpose in our lives.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN">What scares me now?<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN">It is not a question of your commitment. It is not our ability. It is the fear that we will at times lose sight of the gratitude, the overwhelming joy that has flooded our lives in such a short span of time from such a distant place, a source at once unknown and yet comforting.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN">May we never forget what it feels like when loss, rejection and frustration instantly crumble away, their shadows pushed aside to make room for this happiness and warmth.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN">How can we possibly say thank you?</span></div>
</div>
Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03449939505555010004noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995009541388731316.post-27548847497241645472014-11-22T10:17:00.000-08:002014-11-22T10:17:43.148-08:00Misfits<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;">
<a href="http://virtualmarketingofficer.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/square-peg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="http://virtualmarketingofficer.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/square-peg.jpg" width="200" /></a><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Today is National Adoption Day, and I am bombarded by beautiful families all over Facebook celebrating the creation of their families in this most special and amazing way. And I am torn in two. I am just as convinced today as I was 18 months ago that adoption is THE puzzle piece we've been missing. But my heart breaks. My heart breaks yet AGAIN for the hole that still undermines our whole. And every time my heart breaks, a little piece of me crumbles, and I'm not sure if I can ever get it back. So on this National Adoption Day, please do celebrate with us, but know that those smiling families are at the end of the longest struggle of their lives. Know that they cannot possibly be the same people they were when they began their journey. Know that for as many beautiful families that we can see, there are those of us still waiting, still in the middle, still trying to understand and cling to last shreds of hope, still hurting. Know what lies in between and behind the scenes. </i></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Let's say
screw it and just get five dogs.” Wry, sarcastic, defeatist, dripping with
pessimism and between-the-lines desperation. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“The waiting is the hardest part.” Too obvious. Too
empty. A between-the-lines dismissal because I have no better
justification. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“You should just lie a little bit and SAY you’re going to
homeschool your kid.” Well-meaning, surface-level understanding, joking (but
not joking) and between-the-lines pity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Hang in there.” “Hopefully soon!” Generic encouragement.
Over-used lip service and between-the-lines…what? Indifference? Annoyance?
Doubt? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“There is no reason Jeff and I don’t have a child yet.”
Baffled exasperation. Overt. Nothing in between the lines here. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Fact</b>: Every one of these statements has been spoken
(or e-mailed) to us (or by us) recently in response to some non-development in
our current, ongoing saga. Every one of these statements has floated
around in my head since first uttered. One of these statements comes with
the best of intentions, weighted with the desire to show us they’re on our
side. Some are merely poisonous exhaust. And others, I have a feeling,
are expressed to couples like us far too often.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By all accounts, we have a warm, loving home that contains a
beautiful nursery sitting dormant. A place so carefully plotted,
designed, executed. A bittersweet room I am drawn to yet want to avoid. A stagnant shrine to the light at the end of the tunnel that never seems to draw closer or grow brighter. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By all accounts, we have an amazing support network of
friends and family who still wait with baited breath. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By all accounts, we are intelligent, thoughtful, generous –
and grateful – people. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By all previous accounts, we are the family someone will
snatch up right away – the family that won’t have to wait very long. The
couple who will be great parents. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Fact: </b>All accounts cannot account for our misfitting
every opportunity that has come along. (“There is no reason Jeff and I do not
have a child yet” – Me, frustrated and weak.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We cannot afford to spend an additional $40,000 before we
even have a child to care for. Kids are expensive, right?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We live in the real world where we both hold down full-time
jobs. One of us does not have the ability to be a stay-at-home
parent. Neither of us is qualified to homeschool our child. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We plan
to encourage our child to explore their own spirituality rather than choose a
religion for them before they are even born. We have been told our
open-mindedness is wrong. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We don’t have any children yet to be sibling to our adopted
child. We fully intend to adopt a second child because we highly value
the sibling relationship. But we have to start somewhere. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We have scrimped and borrowed and precisely plotted and
accepted amazing charity from amazing people. Yes, we can make $32,000
work. But no, we are not a same-sex couple who already has a child. (“Hopefully
soon!” – Our agency.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Fact:</b> If I have to swallow my tongue and be the
picture of grace, humility, and patience much longer…if I have to continue to
explain and justify our values and lifestyle…I might just finally implode.
Because Limbo is slowly, but greedily devouring my spirit. (“Waiting IS the
hardest part.” – I keep telling myself this.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why can’t we just paint a rosy picture? Why can’t we fib a
little? Why can’t we put ourselves in the most advantageous position
possible? Why not look out for Number 1 for a change? After all, we’ve
earned it, right? Why not just tell them what they want to hear? (“You could
just lie a little bit.” – Multiple friends and family members.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How can I explain it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is the very origin of our family. How can we
bridge the void that currently exists between us, who struggle with this great
emptiness and need, and her, the woman who singularly possesses the ability to
cure us, if we begin with dishonesty?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The degree to which we will maintain a relationship with
this question-mark person over the course of our lives is unknown at this
point, but there is no denying we will forever impact each other. No
other parties will ever share our mutual experience, bond, understanding. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And the sake of our child’s healthy identity will rely on his or her ability to
comprehend and accept his or her origin. And that may very well rely on
our ability to maintain an open relationship with our child’s birth family. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How can we expect to do this– how can we approach this
person later on down the line with yet another need only she can fulfill – if
we set aside our integrity in the very beginning?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Fact:</b> This is not about us. This is not about our
child’s birth family. At its rawest, most essential truth, this is about our
child. What must always come first is what is best for our child. And it is
something we, as good parents, must think about now. Just as any good parent
takes prenatal precautions to positively influence their unborn child. This
is your pregnant daughter, sister, wife, friend cutting out caffeine and
alcohol and raw foods. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Fact:</b> It doesn’t mean it doesn’t still sting like
hell every time we come up short. Every time we make a concession only to
be told it’s the one thing we can’t change or won’t compromise that misfits us
with that birth mother. It doesn’t mean my fire doesn’t ash over a little
bit more every time I catch myself trying to defend a stranger’s wholesale
rejection of us as an appropriate family. Integrity sucks sometimes – it is
physically painful sometimes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Let’s say screw it and just get five dogs.” The text
message I sent my husband after our latest let-down. (“Hang in
there!”)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fact: Four years is a lifetime. I am tired. </span><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03449939505555010004noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995009541388731316.post-38856999399077485032014-08-13T18:00:00.000-07:002014-08-13T18:00:53.601-07:00...limbo..<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img class="irc_mut" height="275" id="_x0000_i1025" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQO8SoVM_3cdXwpx3Ilj3tB2fGSN4-AxeefLAicHmmuk0pugueLXw" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.65098) 0px 5px 35px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.65098) 0px 5px 35px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;" width="246" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Das Schweigen"<br />
Johann Heinrich <span style="font-family: inherit;">F<span style="font-size: 11pt;">üsli</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Limbo is a challenging place to be. Held in place, you look forward, to a
future just out of reach, just a bit hazy and unfocused. Yet you also look
backward, down a road at once exhausting and fraught with potholes, detours and 20/20 hindsight, but also teeming with wisdom and perspective gained along the
way. Your unknowns are too many and, frankly, too unknown to feel as if you
have any leverage to carry you onward. But you've come too far to lose momentum
now. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Limbo is a place where all control lies in the hands of another. And so you
continue to sit, full of latent energy, motivation and restlessness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For Jeff and me, Limbo has been home for three months, six days, and
counting. In the bigger picture, I suppose we really have lived here for four
years (but who's counting?). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It has been a while since I've spilled my guts on the page. And the
interesting thing about Limbo is, having been here before, I've come to
understand it's the most creative place for me to be. Out of necessity,
spinning my wheels gets my gears going. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I suppose if you were to characterize the process of adoption, it would be
as a series of do-this-as-fast-as-you-can tasks so you can get to The Long
Wait. From November to May, Jeff and I were caught up by the seemingly endless
checklist of requirements we needed to complete for someone (several someones)
to tell us we lead an acceptable life in which to raise a child. Every step of
the way, as we winnowed the list by a couple of checkmarks at a time (often
only to add one more new item) we felt the light shine a little stronger at the
end of this tunnel. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(And don't worry - we've heard all of the lamentations from friends and
family and experienced firsthand the cynicism that jumps into the rabbit hole
with you when you start asking why two people like us, with our history, effort
and demonstrated appreciation, have to jump through the hoops when others abuse
and take for granted the gift of life they've been given. It may be a fair
question, but it is an unproductive one that we are long past at this point.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Finally in May - after completing financing plans and financial statements,
undergoing physicals and identifying a pediatrician; after pages and pages of
autobiographies and hypothetical answers to philosophical questions about
everything from discipline to spirituality to ethnic sensibility to our
thoughts on children watching television; after fingerprinting and background
checks, reference letters and 3+ books to read (and subsequently more questions
to answer) and two interviews with the social worker; after four drafts of our
family profile book; and after questioning and requestioning our own thoughts
and beliefs and values and still leaving the questions and expectations open
for discussion and reinterpretation at a later date - we were finally ready to
jump into the pool of waiting families ready to find that perfect match. But
the further we get from May, the more we realize this is a pool of couples
treading water waiting, with no timeline, for that perfect match to invite us to come out and dry off and hopefully not push us back in after we've done
so. (Limbo can be a pool, right?)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">During our wait, we have had our expectations of just who is out there and
just what they're looking for shattered and rebuilt several times. Each
encounter is surprising in both the details of the situation and the timeline
for birth. If nothing else, learning about these birth families and the
circumstances that have brought them to this brave decision has been a crash
course in true life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To step away from the mixed metaphors and catch you up on the facts - since
May, we've been presented with four birth families. Of those four, one has
actually looked at our profile book. This young woman took an interest in us,
based on the very surface-level image available to her through a 20-page photo
book. We met with her a few weeks ago, underwent essentially the most important
job interview of our lives, and quickly learned we were greatly incompatible
with each other. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Back to Limbo we go. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Existentially, sterilely, looking at our experience from a thousand feet, I can
confidently say we are stronger, better people with a more complete world view
because of what we continue to go through. Will it make us better or better
prepared parents? Unanswerable. Does it make us wiser, more empathetic human
beings? For sure. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But from my seat in Limbo, on the most personal level, I have never felt
more vulnerable - despite the methodic microsope of our six-month homestudy
process; despite the physical poking and prodding and grin-and-bear-it,
medically prescribed humiliation I endured for three years. Until now, we have
been able to steer, or at least knowingly leave ourselves in the hands of fate.
This is something altogether different - this is control of this very
important, very emotionally raw part of our lives placed squarely with some
completely unknown person. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Is vulnerability a bad thing? Perhaps that's too
simple a question...</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b> Hindsight</b> tells me to search for the silver
linings.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b> Hope</b> tells me life has an amazing, unspeakable
reward awaiting us in the relatively near future.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b> Love</b> tells me Limbo will fade without us even
realizing we've left it behind.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But for now, with our souls exposed, with our hindsight, hope and love
battling uncertainty, exhaustion and doubt, my heart feebly mutters something
about knowing we are great parents if only someone got to know us underneath
the surface. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The ironic thing about Limbo? While going nowhere, it is nearly impossible
not to get lost. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So in my attempt to regain clarity, I turn to this scribbling,
stream-of-consciousness outlet once more, and through this exercise, here is
what I know:</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Adoption is the beautiful, unbreakable commitment
to true love between a child and that child's parents - both the adoptive
parents-for-life and the life-giving birth parents.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- This is the momentous, defining path our lives
were meant to follow.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- The joy we feel for the future still infinitely
outweighs the oppressive, stagnant air we currently breath.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- We all have to face life's curveballs.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- It's OK to be frustrated and feel like we're being
left behind at times so long as we remember that what we are doing cannot
possibly be valued against the experiences of others following a different path and so long as we check
our expectations whenever we can to regain perspective.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- I AM stronger now than I've ever been. And I am
also more vulnerable than I've ever been. And I don't have to change anything
about that.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- I am truly fortunate to have a partner as we keep
each other company in Limbo and forever thereafter.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- I feel peace when I walk into our nursery.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- I want everyone to feel my excitement and know our
story. This is how I know every minute of this journey is worth it:</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I drove into work this morning brooding and
frustrated, discouraged and disheartened by the past few months. But as I was
walking away from my car, a co-worker started walking with me and asked me if I
had gone on any fun vacations this summer. You know, idle small talk to fill
the awkward air between us from the parking lot to the 2nd floor of City Hall.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I started to give my stock response to this
type of question: "Well, my husband and I are in the process of adopting a
baby, so we haven't been taking many vacations lately in order to save our
money and our time off." But I only got as far as "adopting a
baby," and this co-worker lit up like Clark County from 2 weeks before to
2 weeks after the Fourth of July (we have a "small" problem with
personal fireworks in our neighborhoods here).</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And so we had a conversation about adoption - both
in general and specifically about our experience so far - and she was genuinely
interested and excited for me, this person who knew virtually nothing about my
personal life and now knows much about the most personal part of my life. And I
got that amazing feeling of affirmation I have gotten time and again that tells
it to me straight up: <b>This is right.</b></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And so I will continue to sit in Limbo, holding my husband's hand, until we
are able to take another step down the tunnel. But I will take this moment of
stillness also to continue to tell this story of our trying, heart-wrenching,
joyful, defining journey to every passer-by. Because it is inextricably
essential to who we are and who we will become as a family. And one day, when
we have passed through to the daylight again, I will be telling this story to
my child. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And it will be, above all, <b>a love story.</b></span></div>
<span style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></span>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03449939505555010004noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995009541388731316.post-79400723857234546372014-04-14T21:30:00.002-07:002014-04-14T21:34:58.434-07:00The Ties that Bind<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Dear friends: The following is a message from my lovely daddy-to-be husband. I'm proud to share this snippet from his soul. ~ Amanda</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: #990000;"><strong><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One of these days, when you’re not even
trying anymore, Amanda is going to get pregnant out of nowhere. I guarantee, it
</span></i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">will </span></strong></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em><span style="color: #990000;"><strong>happen.”</strong></span> <!--[if gte vml 1]><v:oval id="_x0000_s1028" style='position:absolute;
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</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>
</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em><br />
</em>I have, in all honesty, lost track of the number of times I have heard some
variant of the above sentence in the three and a half years that my wife and I
have been attempting to become parents. It has been used during both our
struggles with infertility as well as our adventure into the world of adoption.
It is such a frequent go-to for people with whom I discuss our parental
endeavors that I’ve developed automatic reactions to this that are as natural
as comments about the weather. Smile. Nod. “Yeah, who knows? It just might.”<br />
<br />
I do not hold any negative feelings toward the people who utter this statement.
They are being conversational, friendly, optimistic, maybe they think I haven’t
at all considered this as a possibility. Another reason they may mention this –
and Amanda and I have confronted and embraced this as a mere cold reality – our
situation is not the norm and not comfortable for a lot of people to talk about
openly. Infertile couples are far outnumbered by fertile couples. The nuclear
family is still by far the majority in this country. And though you may know
someone who was adopted, it is not incredibly common and not something you
would imagine anyone would consider unless they had no other choice.<br />
<br />
The funny thing is I come from a family where this exact scenario has happened.
My parents adopted my brother after struggling with infertility and being
certain they could not conceive, and I was born three years later as something
of a “miracle baby.” Obviously, it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is</i>
a sincere possibility, however a very unlikely one in our case.<br />
<br />
Amanda has explained, much better than I ever could, about her condition and
why it makes the chances of pregnancy extremely remote at best. She has also
explained about our ventures into the arena of fertility treatments, which
included two aggressive rounds of hormone injections, near-daily doctor visits,
and precisely scheduled fertilization. One resulted in a pregnancy, but sadly
one very short-lived that did not prove viable. The other resulted in nothing
at all, only continued pain, lost money, and dashed dreams.<br />
<br />
The point being, if such closely monitored (and expensive) treatments
ultimately yielded no success, what chance would we possibly have on our own
with nothing but educated guesses and a lot of hope on our side? Frankly, though
this statement means well, in the end it is a stock response to a problem that
can be (and often is) more complex, and much more painful, to the people you
are saying it to.<br />
<br />
However, I understand the point of casual conversation about matters like this.
Not all of the people asking really want to know the gritty details of our
reproductive issues, and equally I do not want to divulge that information to
just anybody. There is a more inherent issue at hand, though, with this kind of
response, one that rather has applied since we decided on the adoption route.
It is also one that, the farther we’ve traveled along this route, has seriously
felt insulting as we’ve become more aware.<br />
<br />
The issue is with the general, widely accepted notion that a household made up
of biological relatives is the truly correct and preferable form of family.
Adoption, as mentioned before, is therefore the backup plan, the second choice,
essentially what you settle for.<br />
<br />
I’m sure some might accuse me of being oversensitive with that response, or
that I’m picking a fight where there is none. Please trust me that that is not
the case, but please also see my side of it. Imagine that you are telling
someone about the amount of anticipation you are experiencing about an upcoming
major change in your life, in fact the most important thing that will ever
happen to you. You are choosing to accept a child into your heart and home, to
love them with no condition of blood relation but simply out of pure love … and
then you are told that it’s okay because someday, you’ll experience the “real
thing.”<br />
<br />
My aim here is not to reprimand or to try to incite any sympathy, but rather to
plea that you take an honest look at your own preconceptions about what makes a
real family. If you truly feel that a blood-related family can more
legitimately be considered a family than one formed by adoption or other means,
please try to take a moment to really analyze why you feel that way. Try, in
fact, to consider what truly makes a family and makes the members of that
family happy.<br />
<br />
A commitment to one another, experiencing joy in each other’s company, creating
lasting memories, being there through the great times and the awful: those are the
things that come to mind when I think of a harmonious family. While blood can
connect a family, it is not an essential tie, and in fact the lack of that
specific necessity can both strengthen and deepen the bond that brings you
together. For instance, my brother is my brother in every way but through
genetics, he is my lifelong friend, my confidante, and I love him more than I
could ever express.<br />
<br />
Adoption is saying that I am not obligated to you because I’m biologically
connected to you. I chose to bring you and keep you in my life and to love you
unconditionally.<br />
<br />
The more we have learned about adoption and the more we have considered it, the
more we have fallen in love with it as the method of creating our family. Even
into a very progressive age, there is a certain stigma associated with
adoption, sometimes still as being a taboo subject but more often now as simply
being unorthodox. We have embraced this fact, realizing we may have to
repeatedly explain to total strangers why our child does not look like us,
knowing our family may very well stand out. Though we know a tough road is
ahead, we also realize it is one that is distinctly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">us</i>.<br />
<br />
I am used to feeling against-the-grain of what is considered normal. I’ve
accepted that I often represent opinions either not accepted or unpopular with
the majority, and I feel not only prepared but excited to co-parent a family
that may be viewed differently than others. I feel that I am joining an elite
group, one where you could have no idea how special it could possibly be unless
you experienced it for yourself.<br />
<br />
So no, my friends, my sympathetic ears and supporters who do truly care, respectfully
we are not eagerly awaiting that day when we realize in shock that we will have
a child biologically. Honestly, though we were excited for it as a
potentiality, that ship has sailed for us. We are 100% committed to the
adoption process. After we adopt our first child, we will adopt a second one. We
have no interest in trying to conceive anymore, though we would accept it and
make it work if it happened incidentally. <br />
<br />
We are a family that is choosing adoption, not tolerating it out of lack of
choices. After all, there are other options out there for us that we have not
and will not ever explore. There is IVF, there is surrogacy, but a blood
connection is not what we need to create a family.<br />
<br />
The love we have to give, the support we know we can provide, the knowledge we
know we can pass on … and the baby we will adopt, who will be our son or our
daughter … are the only ties we need to make our family tree.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03449939505555010004noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995009541388731316.post-78353687667544045992013-06-15T21:28:00.000-07:002013-06-15T21:28:07.434-07:00Father<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsVDPBx7965tMgn__U6BbhOOD4B-yPJi0ZZj8L87lco_HBr1LVwQkMoFp6_o9ejrGwSHGT0FfeZCsXIP4gE8jIXIH6a78TEu6iyEKD8v4JXkVcwXx3_lyJQ2CDyabi3YydBU_GOHIMh0E/s1600/dad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsVDPBx7965tMgn__U6BbhOOD4B-yPJi0ZZj8L87lco_HBr1LVwQkMoFp6_o9ejrGwSHGT0FfeZCsXIP4gE8jIXIH6a78TEu6iyEKD8v4JXkVcwXx3_lyJQ2CDyabi3YydBU_GOHIMh0E/s200/dad.jpg" width="180" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>"The debt of gratitude we owe our mother and father goes forward, not backward. What we owe our parents is the bill presented to us by our children." </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>____________________________________________________ </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Piggy-back
rides…miles and miles of piggy-back rides. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Planting
vegetable gardens each year, specially designed to allow pig-tailed skipping
down the Yellow Brick Road of our back yard, room enough for Dorothy and Toto
too. </span></div>
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</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Mountain
Bars, Pop Rocks and trips to the White Tail deer refuge. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Homemade
sledding – down the logging roads – who would have thought what a great sled an
old highway speed sign and some rope could make?</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">T-ball
lessons and playing catch in the front yard. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Pretending
that tool set is pretty much the BEST gift he’s ever gotten. Until
Christmas next year…when receiving an even BETTER – and in no way the same –
tool set. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Ushering
me into the no-training-wheels days. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Car-ride
lessons detailing the mysteries of highway engineering and road
maintenance. The median stripes REALLY are five feet (+) long! (don’t go
lay down in the street to check)</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Trekking
through the Olympics with llamas. More piggy-back rides. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The
Handy-Man for All Occasions – McGyvering any at-home fix-it need, teaching by
example how not to open a paint can with a pocket knife or even out a ladder on
a staircase using books as shims. (again, don’t try this at home)</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Billy
Joel – Storm Front (i.e. “We Didn’t Start the Fire”)</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The
Eagles – Hell Freezes Over</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">My
adolescent courage as we move through the line at Silverwood, getting closer
and closer to the Corkscrew – my induction into extreme roller coaster
enthusiasm – the only one brave enough to ride just about anything along with
me. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">A
dog man. But also a two parakeets, several hamsters, and (countless)
stray kitten(s) man.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Shared
tastes in books. Taking me to see “Jurassic Park” – the original, one and
only. Sharing my disappointment in “The Lost World.” (I mean, come on!)</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Giving
his children the childhood he could not have. Insulating. Teaching. Nurturing. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Family
road trip navigator, getting us pointed in the right direction for our annual
summer adventures, chauffeuring us to the all-American lands of dinosaurs,
Golden Gate, Old Faithful, Disney, Grand Canyon, glaciers, redwoods, Mt. Rushmore,
and southwestern deserts.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Providing
an endless library of inside jokes (see family vacations above) – “Slow down!”
- “Now it’s MY turn to stop!” - Burrow Creek bathroom lizards – 24-hour road
trip to Phoenix – kamikaze Wallowa Lake deer – KOA flash flooding – Northern Idaho
Naked-Man Bike Ride.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">By
my side for every hospitalization, from 11-year-old appendectomy to 25-year-old
discectomy. Being my courage, always my daddy.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Gracefully
enduring years of female adolescence, and then doing it all over again with my
sister. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Driving
lessons – jolting along the logging roads trying to keep it together as I
“learn” how to drive a stick…how to drive at all. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The
Great American Deck Builder. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">My
first car – wheeling and dealing(-ish) to get me into that 1991 red Geo
Prizm. My mom vowing to never let him and my grandpa go car shopping for
me without her ever again. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Basketball
games, volleyball games, basketball games, volleyball games.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Delving
into the political machine that is a small-town high school, fighting for my
scholarship when the side effects of the power hungry thought they’d found an
easy target. Dad -1, NHS -0</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The
“Dad Gift” at Christmas. Progressing from the bobble-head Chihuahua to a
pretty sweet iPhone case. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Laughter.
</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Brake
jobs, oil changes, new tires and fluids. His fussing and worrying keeping me
safe, expressing his love. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Many,
many moves. From Sheridan to Vancouver, just the two of us…in August…in
100-degree heat…at 10 p.m.….hauling that couch up three flights. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Inconspicuous
words of encouragement, of life lessons, of humor, of deep truths. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The
consummate provider. From vague memories of early-year nightshifts to the
comforts of a golden childhood to private college tuition to co-signing rental
agreements. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Meeting
the boyfriend – embracing my future husband as the son he never had.
Proud of that bull’s eye in the backyard that first weekend they met.
Taking him under his wing whenever the opportunity arises. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Champion
of the Barron of Beef at our wedding of the century. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Walking
me down the aisle. A Billy Joel father-daughter dance. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Thursday-night
dinner. Tolerating Project Runway. Keeping his girls happy even now
(but commiserating with his son-in-law). </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Saving
my cradle so he could fix it up for his grandchild. Gestures so simple
and so lovely. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">There
from the beginning. To be there until the end. I may not be the one
giving birth, but he will be there for the birth of his first grandchild. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">My
protector, my constant, my teacher, my friend. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> __________________________________________________________________________________</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Memories
of my childhood teem with his dependable, warm presence. He is my father,
perhaps because of blood, but he is my dad because of his umbrella over my
life. It is not genetics that formulate my definition of father. It is
this man, wise, strong yet kind, living an honest, simple, steady life. An example to hold up and say, yes, he did it right. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Qualities
I see shining in my husband. Call it Freudian, but I find no fault in
seeking out a little bit of my father in the man to be the father of my children.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Thank
you, daddy, for always standing by my side, over and over again, for giving me a
life not only full of the necessities and the comforts, but enriched by the
experiences and moments we will carry through to your grandchild. <span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>Happy Father's Day!</b></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></span></div>
Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03449939505555010004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995009541388731316.post-56824086012225528552013-05-11T21:24:00.001-07:002013-05-11T21:24:42.963-07:00Mother<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYa-FdgMfF1gMpi284D7O0-ysoA5H9hd8KswAPMeV01G9mrtGfGGmPapN4zBxXPdJ_aHV9iyNhicYXwQgfZtYilrN8Bdxz3oSuuOCIOFsXhYkQoIgFg1v9wAl8z0mXf1S5Y3MjtiLGaUk/s1600/Mother_and_Child_Statue_1024x768.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYa-FdgMfF1gMpi284D7O0-ysoA5H9hd8KswAPMeV01G9mrtGfGGmPapN4zBxXPdJ_aHV9iyNhicYXwQgfZtYilrN8Bdxz3oSuuOCIOFsXhYkQoIgFg1v9wAl8z0mXf1S5Y3MjtiLGaUk/s200/Mother_and_Child_Statue_1024x768.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<i><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Our children are not ours because they share our genes...</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">they are ours because we have had the audacity to envision them. </span></i><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That, at the end of the day...or long, sleepless night, </span></i><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">is how love really works."</span></i><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span>-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</span></span>-----------------------------------------------------</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Digging the rock out of my bloodied knee after a spill off my training-wheeled bike. </span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Working out" to the Jane Fonda aerobics video, me wearing a leotard and leg warmers and laying out our workout mats (towels) in front of the oppressive Zenith cabinet-style TV. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Water-color painting in the farmhouse kitchen...and coloring books, color crayons, coloring, coloring, coloring. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Playing dress-up and pretend wedding in her over-sized high heels and glamorous floor-length nightgowns (oh, the '80s). </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Reading together at bedtime...for as far back as I can remember. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Deftly mixing the Kool-Aid for my roadside entrepreneurial endeavors. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Waiting for the school bus together. Pictures on the first day of school. Every year. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Kissing boo-boos and wiping tears. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Trick-or-treating with the Torppas in the minivan, traversing neighborhood to neighborhood of the Naselle Metro Area.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Field trips - from my pre-school trip to the phone company to my senior band trip to Disneyworld. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Scrubbing my hands and hair with butter, impressing on me the importance of not using chewing gum to string across my bedroom as phone lines for Barbie. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ballet recitals - stuffing me into tutus of various gaudy sequins and tulle. Tightly wrapping and endlessly hair-spraying my hair into bobby-pinned buns. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hiding me upstairs at the bank between 3:30 and 5:00, me attempting crosswords while she finishes her work day. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After-school referee between sisters tattling over the phone during those latch-key days. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"I'll Love You Forever, I'll Like You For Always" - mother-daughter Kindergarten tea. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Slumber parties - desperately attempting to sleep, vowing never to do this again, "forgetting" that promise when my plea for the next one comes around. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Master of ceremonies and party planning, chauffeuring van-loads of adolescent girls to Skate World. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Stern. But fair. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Silently guiding me through the unchartered wasteland that is ages 11-14.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Putting me to work at the Wahkiakum County Fair...as the mascot...in the Sylvester (as in <i>& Tweety</i>) costume. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By my side for every hospitalization, from 11-year-old appendectomy to 25-year-old discectomy. Being my courage, always my mommy. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Basketball games, volleyball games, basketball games, volleyball games. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Unofficial photographer, documenting the ritual of teenage preparation before every high school dance. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Clean - oh so very clean - and neat. Keeping beautiful homes that no child can recreate, no matter how hard we wish we could. Creating havens we never want to leave. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Giving her children the childhood she could not have. Insulating. Teaching. Nurturing. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Proud tears at graduation. Empty-nest tears driving away from Pioneer Hall at Linfield College. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Somehow getting me a job at the Party Store (so...many...balloons).</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Forcing me to wear the birthday sombrero and shake the birthday maracas. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Answering the phone, the comfort of that voice on the other side of the world, in the middle of the night to hear me sob from the Dublin train station. <i> I've maxed out the credit card...I have to pay for three nights at the hostel...I'm sorry, I'm sorry. </i>Wiring me money with the patience of a saint. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Proud tears at graduation. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Driving around with me, scrutinizing apartment after apartment in the Yamhill Valley. Co-signing, loaning me security deposits and move-in fees. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Christmas at home, a rejuvenation from the outside world. Ever promising next year will be a small Christmas. Never following through. Spoiling her kids. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pulling out the old photo albums, shamelessly embarrassing me in front of my future husband. Embracing my love, making him the son she never had. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">More saintly patience through the bridezilla moments of a Type A planning a wedding. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By my side for wedding gown after wedding gown, tulips vs. peonies, to serve alcohol or not to serve alcohol (that is the question). </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Giving me the wedding of my dreams. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The conversations of adulthood. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pedicures and girl talk. Rubbing it in when they think she's my sister. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thursday-night dinner. Project Runway viewing. Making our husbands put up with it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Board-game competitiveness, always gracious - or at least laughing along - in putting up with the trash talk. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The perspective of a woman, yet still my mommy, as it becomes more and more difficult to achieve motherhood. Being there without being asked. Sitting with me through those nightmare days. Helpless. yet. Empathetic. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All-embracing of our path. Leaving a check on the counter. Adoring nursery patterns. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There from the beginning. To be there until the end. I may not be the one giving birth, but she will be there for the birth of her first grandchild. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My mentor, my champion, my litmus, my friend. </span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
</blockquote>
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span>-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</span></span>-----------------------------------------------------</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I think of my mom, it is not her eyes and hair and complexion - those things that stare back at me in the mirror - that I cherish. My mother is not DNA. She <i>is </i>many wonderful, nameless things. And she is also many beautiful moments in time. All of which weave a clear and sparkling notion in my mind of true motherhood. All of which resonate so loudly in my heart - the mother I want to be. Proof that it is not so much our genes (nature) that inform our paths through parenthood as it is our hearts (nurture). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Thank you, Mommy,</b> for planting these memories ever so gently, firmly, honestly into my life. You are my inspiration and you are the standard by which I will always compare myself. <span style="color: purple;"><b>Happy Mother's Day.</b></span> </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03449939505555010004noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995009541388731316.post-76413003614859967702013-04-19T18:37:00.001-07:002013-04-20T08:13:58.940-07:00Dear Friends<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbPgfEyLlSKFnWNcA2ZpNZQipakceutYWzxvTUHo4xdEHaYuBTlpsYMVNyoaZfs8NTwWGtzYmTnVepM2xrj-EVs2z5WNEZcwyCIjuCJDZd5G4FwRdVAJN969IWfwk7zwHMXtljBLBq3F8/s1600/123.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbPgfEyLlSKFnWNcA2ZpNZQipakceutYWzxvTUHo4xdEHaYuBTlpsYMVNyoaZfs8NTwWGtzYmTnVepM2xrj-EVs2z5WNEZcwyCIjuCJDZd5G4FwRdVAJN969IWfwk7zwHMXtljBLBq3F8/s200/123.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dear Friends, </span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We come to you with a proposal. Whether you've been following along with our story from the beginning, or you're just now joining us, we are truly grateful for your interest and support. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We are about to jump into a very significant investment - greater even than the investment we've made in fertility treatment thus far - we are adopting a child. It is the next step in our long, often bumpy journey toward parenthood. We came to the realization long ago that we are parents - in essence - we just need a child to make us so by definition. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Let's be upfront. We are facing roughly $20,000-25,000, and possibly more, to finally bring our baby home. All emotions and philosophizing aside, that's a huge chunk of money for a young, middle-class couple. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Now, we've said all along we would try our damnedest to pay our way, and do so as much as possible without incurring debt. Unfortunately, we can no longer do that. We will be financing our adoption costs through a low-interest loan. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We pose the following points to all of you reading this not because we want to get out of paying off our debt on our own, but because we are a sound investment, and we believe in the immense goodness of the human beings around us. We did not come lightly to the decision to ask for donations. It is surprisingly more uncomfortable than we imagined, but we have to at least see if anyone else would like to contribute. Because whatever money we do not have to pay out of pocket will be dedicated to our preparing to raise our child. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">This message is in no means meant to be a guilt trip. We will pose our case to you and be supremely grateful to those who just read our statement. And if, by the end, you feel like donating a few dollars, you can be assured that every penny will be considered a priceless gift by two people repeatedly humbled in our attempt to put together a family.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">First, the nuts and bolts. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We will be adopting through <a href="http://www.christianfamilyadoptions.org/" target="_blank">Christian Family Adoptions</a>. We are enrolling in both the Loving Options Infant Program and the U.S. African American Infant Program. We know there is a soul destined to be our baby, and we are open to the right match, regardless of the details. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We will be financing $30,000 through the <a href="http://fundyouradoption.org/" target="_blank">National Adoption Foundation</a> at an interest rate of 6.38% because we have excellent credit (just ask Experian!). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We are accepting donations through our GoFundMe page (see button in right navigation bar). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">And now, the in-between. (aka: <b><span style="color: purple;">The Pitch</span></b>)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;"><b>About Us </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We are Jeff and Amanda Delapena. We are both Pacific Northwest born and bred. We live in Vancouver, Washington. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Jeff grew up in Portland, Oregon, surrounded by siblings and nurtured by loving parents and stalwart grandparents. He attended Marshall High School and graduated from Portland State University with a B.A. in English. He currently works at Charter Communications as a Correspondence Coordinator for his day job. He is really a budding novelist and is working on getting his first novel published. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Amanda grew up in rural Pacific County, Washington, in a close-knit family of four, supplemented by an extensive and vibrant extended family. She attended Naselle High School (5 points if you've heard of it; 10 points if you've heard of it and did NOT actually attend yourself) and graduated from Linfield College with a B.A. in German and Mass Communication. She currently works for the City of Vancouver as the Assistant to the City Council for her day job. She really is an aspiring radio jingle singer and color crayon namer. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">In every way we are blessed with a comfortable and fulfilling life. We rent our home with the intent of buying it in the future. We have two fascinating cats and one large, exuberant Nym (our 6-month-old Great Pyrenees dog). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We love camping (in a tent - none of this "glamping" business). We are film buffs - independent films, foreign films, blockbusters, comedies, Oscar-bait - you name it, we've seen it. We play board games and have a closet full to prove it. We try to travel to a new place every year, usually within driving distance, but we also try to get back to our favorite haunts every other year. We're both lovers of the written word, music, and theater. And we long to share our passions with our child(ren). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We were married on a beautiful, warm day in May 2009. Life threw us a curve ball in late 2010 when we decided to start trying to have a baby. I (Amanda) have Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS), an extremely common condition that causes infertility in women. Our journey through the hills and valleys of infertility and associated treatment is chronicled in this blog, so we won't go into the gory details again. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">To summarize, we've ended up drawing a line in the sand. We decided to stop active treatment and instead pursue our dream through adoption. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Life is a series of in-betweens. We've learned to stop expecting and just be accepting. And we are better for the difficulties we've faced in the past few years. Did we expect this would be our path? No. But we have fully embraced it and cannot wait to welcome our baby home. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">If you need to know more about us, please explore this blog or look us up on Facebook (<a href="https://www.facebook.com/amanda.delapena" target="_blank">Amanda</a> or <a href="https://www.facebook.com/jeff.delapena" target="_blank">Jeff</a>).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: #990000;"><b>Why We're a Good Investment </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Because we have tasted the acrid bitterness of the tears of sorrow, we have the ability to taste the sweet fulfillment of the tears of joy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We are committed to our child. We will do everything in our power to bring our baby home. But beyond that, we are committed to providing a home and a life full of experiences and opportunities. We joke that we are buying a baby, but at the heart of it, we are making an up-front investment in a future. We are saying that no price is too great for something so priceless. And we are proud to be able to be a part of something so far beyond ourselves. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We have a support network of family and friends that will not only catch us before we fall, but inevitably enrich the experiences of our child. I happen to believe that Hillary was right - it does take a village, and our village is almost as excited as us to get started. Almost. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Our marriage is strong - our love and commitment to each other has survived hardship and strain. We know we are stronger together and we know it will be our relationship from which we will draw as we venture into parenthood. We will make mistakes, as any first-time parent does. We will make it up as we go along, at times, and desperately depend on our friends who recently experienced it at other times. But we have a trusting and honest partnership that will lie underneath every experience, every question and frustration, and help us grow as we take charge of this new life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We are educated, employed and financially stable. We may not have $30,000 just lying around, but we will make this work and come out OK on the other end. We will make the personal sacrifices when we need to. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We are willing to undergo the scrutiny we know is coming. We welcome it if it means we have an opportunity to ensure we are completely ready and are providing the best home possible. We are open to any questions you may have as well. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">And maybe you think it doesn't need to be said, but we love children. I knew I was in love with Jeff the moment I saw him interacting with his toddler nieces - they adored him (and still do), but quite possibly not as much as he adored (and still does) them. As for me, my heart aches every time I see a mother and child - it is a bond I cannot wait to experience. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We can do this - monetarily, that is - alone. We recognize it will be difficult, but we are ready to do it. But we believe we are a worthy cause. And we believe we will have a great story to share with our child. We can say one day to our son or daughter: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>"Other people believed as much as we did that you were meant to be a part of our family that they helped make it a little easier for us to make it possible. We loved you so much that other people could see that and believed in us enough to help us out. All of these people will forever have a special place in our hearts because of that, and you will always be a reminder to us of the goodness of these people. We can never thank them enough for what they've done for our family, and we will take them with us an example of how we should spread that generosity with others when we can."</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b>Finally, The Request</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">If you want to - please do not feel obligated - we would be so very grateful if you would donate any amount you would like to our <a href="http://www.gofundme.com/delapena-adoption-fund" target="_blank">adoption fund</a>. We will simply add you to our ever-growing list of un-repayable debts we owe our personal angels. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Thank you, above all, for hearing us out. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Sincerely, </span></div>
<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><i><b><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Amanda and Jeff Delapena</span></b></i></span><br />
<br />Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03449939505555010004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995009541388731316.post-731067226335936742013-04-16T21:34:00.002-07:002013-04-16T21:34:47.442-07:00April 16th<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ_BjyuVdtby2eONIipTmyDXYDzta6ukpqYoY9oSdK-7Jn6wRiH8qN0xnH3Sq2fv-7_7tkD6C8rdCtlGvvbVKoZW6QAgaBM4UwnFtGV0n2mBDhYKFtSMK9ODzckdNT3uK7FXColhu6B78/s1600/April+16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ_BjyuVdtby2eONIipTmyDXYDzta6ukpqYoY9oSdK-7Jn6wRiH8qN0xnH3Sq2fv-7_7tkD6C8rdCtlGvvbVKoZW6QAgaBM4UwnFtGV0n2mBDhYKFtSMK9ODzckdNT3uK7FXColhu6B78/s200/April+16.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Today is the anniversary of the day we lost our hopes and
dreams, the day I miscarried my first and, so far, only pregnancy. It was
the darkest day of my life. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Today is the day we reclaim our hopes and dreams, the day we
officially begin the process of one day – soon – meeting our baby. Today
I placed into the mail our application to enter the infant adoption programs at
Christian Family Adoptions. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I’ve made note of ominous or superstitious days in this blog
before, and so far they’ve panned out very unsuccessfully. So what is the
difference this time? One comment, almost glossed over, made by the CFA program
coordinator during the info session we recently attended: </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>Every couple that has stuck with the program has
eventually had a successful adoption</i>. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">And there’s also this:</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>CFA considers 2 years to be a “very long wait” to
complete the process</i>. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Based on these two facts alone, I can confidently assert
that, while we are just opening the door on our next opportunity, we are
finally beginning to see the end of the path that has taken us close enough to
walk through that door. And at that end, we will finally meet our child. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">This is the only thing that matters. Not the costs, not the
rigorous evaluation of our suitability as parents, not the training and not the
waiting. We are resilient, we are determined, and we are seasoned veterans when
it comes to this character-shaping period in our lives. These are the
qualities that will lead us to our baby. Two years is nothing to stick out when
it comes to the lifetime ahead of us. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">And everything we’ve been through – and everything to come –
has simply been to develop the deepest, unspeakable appreciation we will have
for the soul that will one day call us mommy and daddy. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b>April 16th.</b> Everything in me wanted to skip over this
day, forget it is even on the calendar. That is until recently. My
perspective is now altered – I’m allowed to change my mind, right? Now I want
to hold this date forever in my heart.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Let me explain. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It was a sweet, unlooked-for gesture that prompted me to
rethink April 16th. My acupuncturist – my hand-holder, my objective sounding wall, my
friend – gave me a fertility stone at my last appointment. One of four,
she said. It is small and simple, yet humbly beautiful in its crystalline
and mineral appearance. Perhaps made even more so in my eyes because to
me this stone will serve as a reminder of where I’ve been and what I’ve
experienced to get to this point. I am having it made into a necklace,
which I will wear over my heart. It shall be a link between that which we
lost and that which we shall soon receive. When I wear it, I will remember the
lows, the darkness, the pain, and in doing so, sharpen the joy and happiness
now peaking over our horizon. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">And so when I woke up this April 16th, I began to think
about what this day means to me in the light this recent gift. And I realize now
that my personal victory will be found in turning April 16th into another
fertility stone to carry with me into and throughout motherhood. Another
reminder of just how lucky we are. Another reminder to never take our child for
granted. An assurance to the woman who will give birth to our baby that we
truly, completely understand the selfless act she is committing and that there
are no two people who could be more grateful and therefore no two people who
will work harder to be worthy of her sacrifice. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It is amazing what a year can do. I am still facing a
lifetime of April 16ths, but that idea no longer wilts my spirit. My April
16ths will now be a testament to dreams lost and refound, to silver-lining revelations, to parents whose paths
to their babies don’t quite fit the mold, and to selfless acts of love making
the just-out-of-reach finally attainable.</span><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;"></span></div>
Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03449939505555010004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995009541388731316.post-50118785293256603322013-03-15T10:22:00.002-07:002013-03-15T10:22:57.312-07:00Conclusion (?)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZPlI-2mCWxm2PC_SVp0f6irHDcX8lP50VAtLV9OfQCCjBMl5iXqGUQxJ_Im33S3v3N33zTbljxjUOqOeYxJoawHlJi_2pXHZxUslQhiKc-Gu254mA7wVGQgkHeZ3us_FqfM0L9jJbco4/s1600/EndIsNear1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZPlI-2mCWxm2PC_SVp0f6irHDcX8lP50VAtLV9OfQCCjBMl5iXqGUQxJ_Im33S3v3N33zTbljxjUOqOeYxJoawHlJi_2pXHZxUslQhiKc-Gu254mA7wVGQgkHeZ3us_FqfM0L9jJbco4/s200/EndIsNear1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Where do you go when all you’ve been left with after nearly three years are scars and an empty bank account?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I fully intended to write this entry last week, on the day I received my negative results, when I was entirely in the moment and could accurately record the tumult pounding my head and heart. But I could not. I had to breathe through those few days and simply figure out where we have been left standing.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">And here we are…</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I am not pregnant. Nor do I any longer plan to be... Let me fill you in.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">After the miscarriage last year, we had intended to do another round of the hormone injections with artificial insemination – it worked once, we figured we had a good shot (take or leave the pun) the second time around. But my plans never go as planned despite my careful planning.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">After a couple months’ wait, I discovered – miracle of miracles – that I was ovulating naturally. So we decided to save our money and just wing it (go with Aunt Flow?) and see what we could do on our own with the minimal assistance of over-the-counter ovulation tests and the precision timing that comes from years of learning way more about human reproduction than someone without the salary of a medical professional should have. And weekly acupuncture.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">And so commenced the trials of “The Old Fashioned Way” (with a little bit of Chinese medicine and First Response thrown in). For six months. There was no reason why I was not pregnant by the end of 2012. Our continued failure led us once more to Oregon Fertility Institute and another $400 consultation with my doctor. And yet another plan of attack. Because I was ovulating on my own – just like a big girl – we decided on a less aggressive and less expensive treatment. Femara – a pill much like Clomid that stimulates ovulation but without the most miserable side effects – and artificial insemination. A few weeks and a thousand dollars later we were back in No-Man’s Land, that excruciatingly slow two-week waiting period between getting knocked up by a turkey baster and peeing on a stick. (OK, it’s much more elegant and clinical than a turkey baster, but you know you laughed.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">And we felt incredibly hopeful. And the signs and symptoms slowly revealed themselves. And life was pleasantly and distractingly hectic. And despite all of my self-preserving talk of not reading anything into anything, I was almost certain the test would be positive. And I thought for sure I would finally capture that elusive double pink line once and for all. And then I didn’t. And I was crushed. And I was in denial.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The definitive NO came with a blood test the next day, leaving us at another crossroad. Or maybe it is more of a stalemate. My body is functioning correctly, but I still need some sort of assistance, it would seem. Whether that is more of the same or perhaps some super hormone shots or something completely different, I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter. We don’t have any more money to test any more theories. And even if we did, we have no guarantee it would move us any closer to our goal or simply continue pushing us along laterally for another month, six months, year – endless.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">And in all honestly, I have no more energy – no more fight – to give. Money is only one currency of myriad resources necessary to keep doing this. Some couples go on for year and years, and I’m not sure if I envy or pity them. Maybe a little of both. But I don’t do well with such uncertainty and a situation so far out of my control. And I have found that such stagnancy of life simply erodes my spirit. I will have no more of it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">And so back to the crossroads we go. A decision point. Arrived at a place I think we’ve both suspected for a long time we would get to. Do we keep draining ourselves, our funds, our tears? Or do we work toward positive progression in our lives and in the little, fragile, deserving life of a child in need of the kind of family we could be? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Our decision is probably obvious. We are beginning our next adventure. Adoption. We’ve contacted DSHS and we’ll be starting the necessary steps next week. (Note: At the time of writing this, we were without Internet service – damn you CenturyLink! – so by the time you read this, we have probably already attended our orientation - actually, it's tonight!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Despite feeling like a complete failure yet again, I am OK. I am actually relieved. I can now utilize one of my great abilities – multitasking. Bring on the Type A. It’s now time for me to focus on not only family building – in the truest, brick-by-brick, from-the-ground-up sense – it’s time for me to focus on me. Be a little selfish, as a friend put it. Focus on me. Not my infertility. All of me. Focus on those little, non-fertility health issues I’ve been putting off. Focus on my new home, complete with extra-large puppy. Focus on my incredible marriage. Rebuild my spirit and vitality, which have been sucked into hypothetical treatments, waiting periods, cyclical disappointment, and physical abuse for almost three years. To think that so much of that is over…I can’t really even comprehend it yet. But I am grateful I can alight my soul elsewhere now.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We have concluded a painful period in our lives – painful but not without its teachable moments, I recognize. Only because of the loss and disappointment and frustration can we fully appreciate whatever opportunity now lies in front of us. Don’t get me wrong – I have no delusions that the road to adoption will be any less marked by potholes, downed trees, detours and road rage. But at least we will not have to rely on my broken body as the vehicle to get us there. We will be able to build on our strengths rather than forced to overcome my weakness. My physical abnormality will not be the barrier here. Instead, our child is depending on our combined intelligence, love, strength of character, passions and drive. Our child will come into our lives not because my body follows – or is manipulated to fit into – the laws of Nature, but because we have created the best, most stable and full-of-love home we can. And I am confident there are no two people in the world right now more prepared to provide that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I thank you all for your love and support, your shared tears and commiseration through Phase I. Now I ask you to hold out just a little longer with us as we jump into this new journey. We will undoubtedly need you every step of the way.</span></div>
Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03449939505555010004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995009541388731316.post-35625116201451404742013-03-15T10:10:00.002-07:002013-03-15T10:10:58.742-07:00Happy Valentines Day<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>**Written Feb<span style="font-size: x-small;">ruary</span> 14, 2013 - we've been without <span style="font-size: x-small;">Internet service since Feb. 16.<span style="font-size: x-small;">**</span></span></i></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9TB3yUPL233sX8Ds7CN_GI6bt6LzqQUTEpSW7FiA0eamTAJwSGgN-flyJfdahApDI5F9Bve0BmPuOcrfQl4uHWSgN77Z_iGg230wCko2t9fDwZy68K7HXp0tT9N5inV7xnUDSrcrYFrg/s1600/rustic_heart_II.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9TB3yUPL233sX8Ds7CN_GI6bt6LzqQUTEpSW7FiA0eamTAJwSGgN-flyJfdahApDI5F9Bve0BmPuOcrfQl4uHWSgN77Z_iGg230wCko2t9fDwZy68K7HXp0tT9N5inV7xnUDSrcrYFrg/s200/rustic_heart_II.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Today is Valentine’s Day. Today Jeff and I are honoring our love in a way most befitting our struggles over the past 30 months. We’re going to get knocked up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I am writing this with the intention of not actually posting it for a few weeks. If you’ve been following our story at all, you will understand and likely excuse us for our unwillingness to make any announcements – one way or the other – for some time. At least until we have a degree of certainty as to what will become of our 2013.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">But if you have any superstition in you, consider the following:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">1) First of all, it’s Valentine’s Day. What better omen could we wish for when taking the final step toward procreation based in the love of our marriage?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">2) It’s been exactly one year minus 10 days since our first insemination. And we all know what happened there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">3) This has so far been the year of life changes for us. We adopted a puppy (or moose) a few weeks ago. And we’re moving to a new house in two days. A baby will make it a perfect three-for-three.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">4) I recently had a test done to ensure my tubes (as in Fallopian) are functioning correctly. And yes, they are. But beyond that assurance, I’ve been told by three separate medical professionals on three separate occasions that this test is as therapeutic as it is diagnostic. It increases conception odds up to a few percentage points for about three cycles following the test. Every little bit helps, right?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">5) We know what we’re getting into this time around. We are different people than we were a year ago. We’ve been through the rolling hills and valleys of frustration and elation, of deep sorrow and hard-won recovery. It’s a long road we see in our rear-view mirror, and it has sobered us. But it has also matured and emboldened us.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So here we are, hours away from starting all over, and completely in the dark about how, or even if, this time will be any different. I would be lying if I said my hope is not a little dampened this time around. But the point is, there is still hope in my heart. Six months ago – let’s be honest, two days ago – I was not sure hope would be kindled at all this time. But it’s there, meekly and passively waiting in the shadows for the time to come when it can relax, release some of its self-preserving caution, and fully realize the joy it would like to become.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Am I nervous? My sister asked me this yesterday. I really am not. I know what we’re in for, and I will walk into my doctor’s office this afternoon free from – excuse the delicious pun – preconceived expectations. I may be a little more jittery twelve days from now when I get the results of THE blood test. But today I am calm. Maybe that has been the whole point of all of this. Serenity. Peace.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I will write another post to follow this entry once we know if this insemination is as successful as the first one. But if it is, you will not be reading this one, that one, or the big one – the announcement – until we have seen that precious heartbeat safely flickering on that god-forsaken ultrasound screen. Until we are ready to tell the world, without reservations or the frightening notion that we may have to take it all back, that our child is finally on its way. It is my sincere hope that I will be writing that third blog post in a few months.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">For now, I’ll just say Happy Valentine’s Day, my friends. Even if you won’t be reading this until the chocolates are long gone and the flowers have depressingly wilted. Thank you for your love and the strength it has given me. A strength that will support my steps as they take me through the doors of Oregon Fertility Instituted today, steps not of fear or anxiety, but of love.</span></div>
Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03449939505555010004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995009541388731316.post-45939434449763715302012-12-14T16:02:00.001-08:002012-12-14T16:02:43.351-08:00(Love.) <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">There are moments in <span style="font-size: small;">our li<span style="font-size: small;">ves, mom<span style="font-size: small;">ents that </span></span></span></span>come along and knock the wind out of our breathing lungs, stop our beating hearts, confound our curious minds, leave us grasping for purpose, for answers. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">As I sit watching the news coverage of the unspeakable, crushing horror at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut, my whole being recognizes this moment. Before we can even comprehend this tragedy, the speculation and analysis begins. Who, what, where, when, how? What if? What now? </span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">(WHY!?)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Even if we find, or come across, or are fed the answers to these questions, where does that leave us? Twenty babies will not return to their parents' arms today. Another community has been upended and will never be the same. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">And we, the helpless observers, will go 'round and 'round with each other (most likely on Facebook). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Well, my plea - my contribution to the conversation - is simple, and it's not new. It's an idea that we know, and we occasionally see in action. But it's something that all too often gets lost in the rat race, in the stresses of the mundane, in the pressure of the bad that feels like it's continually closing in. (LOVE.) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It's a word we toss around. It's an emotion we can't always pinpoint. It's a force that, despite its innate vagueness, means something specific to every human being. And it's something I do not express rightfully and wholeheartedly as often as I should. But the truth is, I am so unspeakably grateful for so much and so many - </span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">my comfort, my security, my health, my talents. </span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">My amazing husband, my unmatchable parents, my beautiful sister, my wise and stalwart grandparents, my vibrant aunts, uncles, cousins, in-laws, my peerless friends, my talented coworkers, the very dear and endlessly inspiring children in my life. (I LOVE YOU.) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So my request, in the aftershock of such stabbing brutality and senseless loss, is for each of us - we, the helpless observers - to pause, take a breath, close our eyes, and determine what love means to us, specifically. Once we see it clearly, I then would humbly request we each act on that determination in whatever way seems most appropriate. (YOUR LIFE IS TREASURED.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">My soul is tired of the darkness. It shrivels a little bit more with each utterance of bitterness and each degree of desensitization. It's time to spread joy. It's time to let the ones we love know, every day, how they fortify our spirits, how they perpetuate our joy, how they make this life worthwhile. (YOU ARE MY HAPPINESS.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">To steal a sentiment from one of my dear friends (Alexis, you have a beautiful heart), it's time to honor those precious lives lost, those families ripped asunder, the flowing tears of that weeping New England town, and the frustrations of this tormented nation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Ready? Let's start. </span></div>
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Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03449939505555010004noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995009541388731316.post-81984186494402731412012-11-21T21:07:00.000-08:002012-11-21T21:07:03.996-08:00Gratitude 2.0<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-jqIPJRRGwGuiyhaXPgxdsaQcgGzaHzhbUASpeuKWGtHg4QVBd-fUGMcdjQN25qqhwWpq45538top76AQkQFGyMpiu3T6U4q_HgvjTw1XMddK7m-SPlUJerD1HhMzYGU4dwXjELT80AI/s1600/74840-500x500-say_thank_you.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-jqIPJRRGwGuiyhaXPgxdsaQcgGzaHzhbUASpeuKWGtHg4QVBd-fUGMcdjQN25qqhwWpq45538top76AQkQFGyMpiu3T6U4q_HgvjTw1XMddK7m-SPlUJerD1HhMzYGU4dwXjELT80AI/s200/74840-500x500-say_thank_you.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">'Tis the season...to be thankful (I know what you were thinking). A few months ago, I wrote about my deep appreciation for my <a href="http://pregnantpauseblog.blogspot.com/2012/05/lifelines-tribute.html" target="_blank">Lifelines</a> along this perilous journey. On this day - a day for which I am desperately trying to do my part in preserving the gratitude that seems to be slipping into the abyss of door busters and early-bird savings - I will seek to expand on the thankfulness that seven months later has instilled in me. And hopefully perpetuate the grand defense of the turkey. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So, to begin the belaboring of food-related puns...let's dig in!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I am thankful for this blog and for all of you out there reading it. I have vented, whined, lamented, hoped, and observed. I have found a peace of mind and a soothing of heart here in Internet-land. Admittedly, this whole thing started for purely selfish reasons, but I know it's grown beyond my own healing. I am so thankful for and humbled by the mutual support and camaraderie flowering from each post. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I am thankful for "alternative" medicine, this whole new world that has opened up avenues of health for body and mind. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I am thankful that my body is responding to treatment - whether it be Western, Eastern, or au naturale, by body is responding and normalizing. At this point, it is only a matter of time and routine to get us to our goal. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I am thankful I know my body. If I have learned anything along the way these past 2 1/2 years, it is how to read my body. It is how to pay attention. And it is knowing the effect outside elements have on my body - good or bad. I've said it many times, but it is SO important that I will continue to preach this: Learn how your body works. Know what is normal for you. Pay attention when normal interferes with basic functions. Speak up when what you know - through your own research and intuition - is not being properly addressed by medicine. Be your own health advocate. Do not be afraid to try, fail, try again, fail again, and continue to explore new things until something adjusts normal into the basic function that has eluded you. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I am thankful for financial security. Without it we would never have been able to pursue any kind of treatment. We would be in the dark about our obstacles. It is a travesty that couples in our position need to spend so much emotional currency on the stress of money, but it is where the healthcare system of our society sits at this point. Parity is rare to non-existent when it comes to fertility treatment. Jeff and I are fortunate to be in a position where we have managed to scrape by paying out-of-pocket for my fertility specialist and for weekly acupuncture and periodic naturopath appointments. I am tempted to ask why we have to in the first place, but just being able to is enough to make me grateful. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">And in that vein, I am thankful to have a job that offers me the flexibility to be able to go to the appointments I've needed to go to. To be an emotional and hormonal wreck (at times). To take a break every now and then to focus on my personal crises. This has been a support system in and of itself. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I am thankful for humor and perspective. Coming (nearly - the saga continues) full circle, looking back, and anticipating the future, my heart has only been able to heal - scarred though it may be - because of the love and support of those around me. But also because of those lighter moments of laughing at the completely absurd nature of human fertility, conception, and pro-creation. To my dear friends who keep me smiling (you know who you are), you have saved me time and again. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I am thankful for me. All narcissistic undertones aside - and fully recognizing the role others have played in my survival - I have been through hell. I may not have climbed completely out yet (call it the shallowest circle) but I'm still going strong. Human beings are incredible creatures, and I find it perfectly acceptable to acknowledge when we've been particularly resilient. I was reminded of this by watching a Good Morning America update on the condition of Robin Roberts - a woman whose seemingly immeasurable strength beautifully exudes through her spirit. Here is what she said: "We're all a little stronger - just a little bit stronger - than we think we are. And that is all we need." We tend to overlook our abilities to thrive, but I will take this moment to admit I am both proud of and surprised at my own fortitude. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">And finally, I am thankful for traditions - for good food and beautiful family, for the Macy's parade providing the day's soundtrack, for wishbone breaking and watching "Christmas Vacation" after Thanksgiving dinner, for "A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving," for mom's carrots and pumpkin pie drowned in Cool Whip, for holding out and not turning on the Christmas music until Friday - for all of those things that remind me why I keep fighting. Viva la Turkey-day!</span></div>
Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03449939505555010004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995009541388731316.post-29939605337168847382012-11-08T17:42:00.000-08:002012-11-08T17:42:27.118-08:00Are We There Yet and Fa-La-La-ing<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIbLBsL1YAK5UKB8cOeSjrNGtDD0VpZYHgb04dOQoCAmFeT5ubQHAVB46vjibclehBkxGVnmVuXohNWb0IDCVGL85wliS-YRoTXJ5v0I5y2h8wK6Y1rcqqfSzuSEHGL-EnKe7ffOrAPVI/s1600/126.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="105" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIbLBsL1YAK5UKB8cOeSjrNGtDD0VpZYHgb04dOQoCAmFeT5ubQHAVB46vjibclehBkxGVnmVuXohNWb0IDCVGL85wliS-YRoTXJ5v0I5y2h8wK6Y1rcqqfSzuSEHGL-EnKe7ffOrAPVI/s400/126.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So many times
along this journey, I’ve had to stop and simply ask “why?” But probably
not the why most people <span style="font-size: small;">would think</span>. It’s not “why hasn’t this worked out the
way we planned,” but rather “why am I putting myself through this physical hell?” and
“why is this emotional and psychological turmoil worth it?” and “why should I
keep playing the waiting game month after eternally long month?” </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I’m a great
believer in experiential living, in the idea that what we expose ourselves to
greatly shapes who we are, who we will become, and what we ultimately value as
essential parts making up the whole of what we call life. (Excuse me while I
wax philosophical.)</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So when I ask
myself why I want to be a mother, why I am trying so hard to create a family, I
turn to the experiences of my life. And when I experience something that
adds another layer to living, I remind myself that this is why I want to have a
child. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxKW7il2JfpueFvs2OkmuCrSx3IQIE8twz29nXkH1Jlm7Sqe3f2dutgl1crCoLXDGu9RFVHbtR6Dmy7A9yCICsQHHk7pDvLqRznC8nO0c0Ejxg6bkKJfwWaS8-sd95b_CVamX4zffKM7g/s1600/054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxKW7il2JfpueFvs2OkmuCrSx3IQIE8twz29nXkH1Jlm7Sqe3f2dutgl1crCoLXDGu9RFVHbtR6Dmy7A9yCICsQHHk7pDvLqRznC8nO0c0Ejxg6bkKJfwWaS8-sd95b_CVamX4zffKM7g/s200/054.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Let’s back up a
bit. My husband and I recently embarked on an epic journey – a 10-day road trip
to and through the A<span style="font-size: small;">merican </span>Southwest. We drove anywhere from six to ten hours a
day and slept in hotels running the gamut of dated and cheesy to plush and
upscale. We saw friends, family, and the awe-inspiring Grand Canyon. We
took interstates and back roads and listened to every CD in my collection. And
we created a jewel in the expanding treasure chest of our lives together.
</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Now, I am no
stranger to such trekking. My parents enriched my and my sister’s lives exponentially
with every summer they packed us up in the truck (small though it was, and
smaller though it seemed to get) and herded our little family in a general
direction. These two-week trips took us all over the western United
States. We hit the big ones – Yellowstone, Mount Rushmore, Disneyland,
the Golden Gate Bridge, and the Grand Canyon. And we stumbled upon the more
obscure – Dinosaur National Monument (VERY cool for the budding post-<i>Jurassic
Park</i> paleontologist), the Rocky Mountain Oyster Festival (quite fascinating<span style="font-size: small;"> </span>and
extremely gross to the 6- and 10-year-olds), and serene Flathead Lake (soul food
for an introspective and moody adolescent who decided to pick up a camera one
day). </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">But we also
experienced the countless in-between moments – driving across Utah's Bonneville
Salt Flats at sunset, our feet hanging out the open truck window; or trying to
guess the mileage between points A and B along the incredibly sparse and
surprisingly long straight-stretches between Reno and Vegas; or escaping the
flash flood at that KOA in South Dakota, taking shelter in the Twilight Zone
rec room above the campground office; or the record Arizona heat toasting our
bread before we had time to make the sandwiches; and especially the countless
inside jokes we still laugh at from time to time (“Slow down!” and “Let me
out!” come to mind).</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpqUsNFBRot_H74r-qxCHcbvHjRkZ2xDu_XTmbiGbVwtOZQCUwxqocji13RaZMjKo6oErB7GW6Slw0g-mAF5aNStbRg4XRb7jgG9Q23-a7rYAXz60QaI4oWuYHGUlo9Eqw87SnXJEjC1I/s1600/045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpqUsNFBRot_H74r-qxCHcbvHjRkZ2xDu_XTmbiGbVwtOZQCUwxqocji13RaZMjKo6oErB7GW6Slw0g-mAF5aNStbRg4XRb7jgG9Q23-a7rYAXz60QaI4oWuYHGUlo9Eqw87SnXJEjC1I/s200/045.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">All this is to say
our little road trip a few weeks ago was the beginning of a new generation of
Americana on the road, or two-week treasures that continue to add immeasurable
joy to my life. Everyone deserves to feel the nurturing effect of a
family road trip. And I so want to pass on this s<span style="font-size: small;">mall</span> legacy to a family
of my own. I want to pack up my kids every summer and show them not only
this great country, but also the passing moments that build and sustain
memories and photo albums. I suspect that my parents look back on those
trips as fondly as I do, and I know something will be absent from the
experience of my life if I am not able to someday do the same. I want to know
that a new generation will someday look back and remember the inside jokes and
even the nostalgic frustration of sharing that small backseat with your little
sister for hours and miles on end. That is why I want to be a mother. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Let’s back up
even further. There is a minor phenomenon circulating Facebook world
these days – it is the “30 Days of What I’m Thankful for in November”
phenomenon. And as I’ve seen friends post their thoughts each morning, I have
noticed, without exception so far, that every beatitude comes down, at its
core, to family. When you’ve gotten lucky in family, what else is there,
really? And here is yet again, another bittersweetness for me. My
childhood was filled with family, and the older I get the more thankful I am for
that – and for them. I want to create a life that will one day look back and be
so grateful for its family and for the life its parents have crafted and
nurtured and pined for. What greater way to honor your family than to reflect
that love – that pumpkin-spice, cinnamon-stick, hot-chocolate comfort – onto
your own children. Pay it forward (can I use that cliché) and create a new
generation of happy, grateful human beings who will want to emanate life and
love around them. That is why I want to be a mother. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggGMEZPRIhrJKOD0rcpXKuZRpR_GL2E08UhJf3vku_RISmraZxtOrUVhyphenhyphenHKaKx8-zxfBTopj3dubsPmzGmIdjHnHe_e4q3YYA83sxDHWPYvGgbNpCElt9fVnrVkmiGxep5M4n_XkshrQQ/s1600/rockwell-thanksgiving.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggGMEZPRIhrJKOD0rcpXKuZRpR_GL2E08UhJf3vku_RISmraZxtOrUVhyphenhyphenHKaKx8-zxfBTopj3dubsPmzGmIdjHnHe_e4q3YYA83sxDHWPYvGgbNpCElt9fVnrVkmiGxep5M4n_XkshrQQ/s200/rockwell-thanksgiving.jpg" width="155" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">And let’s go
forward a bit. As the Christmas-themed commercials begin to permeate the
airwaves, hop-scotching right over Thanksgiving and stealing the turkey’s
thunder, what about that Holy Grail of holidays? I would be in denial if I
didn’t admit that my heart breaks at the thought of yet another childless
Christmas. As my friends, cousins and in-laws make plans for their families –
scheduling that first photo session with an ornament-strewn backdrop, or buying
tickets for The Nutcracker, or standing in line for Santa at the mall, or
bundling up their little ones for that icy hike through the tree farm – as
those simple, perfect moments begin to play out, I’m still counting the days of
my cycle and budgeting for ovulation kits and weekly acupuncture appo<span style="font-size: small;">intments</span>. I’m remembering that nine short (yet
oh so long) months ago, we expected we’d be celebrating Baby’s First Christmas
too. I’m imagining and planning out what we might do “when we have a kid.” (Our
agenda is so full of plans for that hypothetical – we’ve had two and a half
years of it – that our children won’t have a free moment for the first five
years of their lives.)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So it comes back to these experiences – to liv<span style="font-size: small;">ing</span> life interestingly. To knowing that my children will have full lives and all the opportunities I’ve been blessed with – if only we can achieve that final blessing. All in all, I’ve led a very rich 29 years and 2 months. And if I’ve learned anything, it’s that life is not meant to be spent in solitude. And life also should not end. Now, I’m not advocating immortality. But we should live on through the imprint we make on those we leave behind. It is my strong desire to leave my imprint on my child, as my parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, have left theirs on me. I want to create a life of happiness, fulfillment, opportunity, and pristine experience for someone new to this world. That is why I want to – need to – be a mother.</span></span></div>
Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03449939505555010004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995009541388731316.post-5598761356665240702012-09-12T17:50:00.001-07:002012-09-12T17:50:22.738-07:00Fall-ing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ_1hT3pgPYu9zKLC_cMXa97uILDF_QwkI8iJmx1_58vuqMVHpFiALVBHrIw4hO1mlwKzyVSGJ1bctgWddzITBo7_sWQC6Rl2lRiv79HRzLG5MSfgV8CBnMo8mg6wQEdo99g6ZTGRT8Po/s1600/fall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ_1hT3pgPYu9zKLC_cMXa97uILDF_QwkI8iJmx1_58vuqMVHpFiALVBHrIw4hO1mlwKzyVSGJ1bctgWddzITBo7_sWQC6Rl2lRiv79HRzLG5MSfgV8CBnMo8mg6wQEdo99g6ZTGRT8Po/s320/fall.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I was reminded today that Summer is ending, Fall is about to begin, and Autumn is a pristine metaphor for preparing life for renewal. It also just so happens to be my favorite season (maybe because my birthday is in September), and so a fitting time for re-evaluation. </span></div>
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<br /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">In Autumn, nature sloughs off the old in anticipation of the coming dormancy, the time when everything lies quiet beneath the surface before bursting forth refreshed and renewed from the long winter’s nap. Some may think of autumn as the dying season, but it is really the cleansing season. A time to get rid of whatever spring and summer may have built up and to prepare a blank canvas for the following seasons. </span></div>
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<br /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">And so, to echo my last post about <a href="http://pregnantpauseblog.blogspot.com/2012/08/unexpecting.html" target="_blank">expectation</a>, and in honor of the leaves that soon will golden and fall, I too am letting go. Call this my personal Lent. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I have already explained the many ways in which I have cycled through the varied definitions of expecting, so let me sum up: I am letting go of the expectations I’ve placed on myself and others along this path. They are arbitrary in the grand scheme of how little I can control the outcome of such expectations, and they only magnify disappointment (it’s a cold and vicious cycle). </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">And in that same vein, I am letting go of control. This is not the same as giving up, keep in mind. But this past year has taught me nothing if not the brutal truth that I am not in control of the chemistry of my body, nor am I in control of my fate. There are steps I can take to potentially influence both, but I cannot maintain the expectation that I control how things will turn out. I am one small human in this infinite universe – Hello, my name is Amanda, and I’m a control freak. Wouldn’t that be an ironic 12-step program. </span></div>
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<br /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">In letting go of control, it is my intent to let guilt and shame fall away right with it. We, the Infertile, live with an incredible burden of both shame and guilt. I have expressed this many times before, but it is so unfair that it bears reminding. We feel guilt over our resentment toward those who have what we fight and long for. We feel shame over our inadequate bodies. We feel guilt if we stray the slightest from our rigid health and medical regimens. (*Gasp* I ate a piece of licorice today and I didn’t work out!) We feel shame in our monthly “failures.” And on it goes. Well, I say ENOUGH. Circumstance, fate and genetics have already dealt me an uphill battle. I refuse to make the path any steeper. This Fall, whenever I feel those emotions oozing and sneaking their way in, I promise to myself I will stop, take a breath, and say “enough.”</span></div>
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<br /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I will do my damnedest to let go of stress. That is, the stress of infertility. There are changes in the works for my husband and me in our grand pursuit – changes not yet ripe for divulging – and these have put some peace back into my ramshackle mind. From where I stand now, it is my new goal to maintain some zen, some balance and perspective, and to allow life to unfold as it will around me. Five months ago, I never imagined I could ever feel happiness again. Two months ago, I saw happy cautiously peeking over the horizon. And now, I can honestly say I feel truly happy (albeit measuredly) more often than not. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I love my friends and my family. And I love their babies. But I would be lying if I said I have never felt resentment toward what seems like their ever-growing families. And in turn, it tears my heart in two when I realize I resent their joy (see above re: guilt). Similarly, I have harbored much animosity for pregnant strangers for no reason but the fact that they have managed to become and stay pregnant, as nature intended. It is all irrational, emotional, shameful. It has been by far my least favorite side effect of infertility, and I want to let it go. To my friends and family – I want to share in your joy and learn from your own journeys. To the strangers – I will likely never meet you, but when I see you walking down the street or shopping in IKEA, I promise to wish you bliss instead of my own projected frustration.</span></div>
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<br /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I am letting go of the What Ifs – both past and future. The past is unchangeable. It was dark and stormy but I am stronger for it. What doesn’t kill us, right? The future is unwritten, at least in a medium my human eyes can see and my tiny mind can comprehend. If we are destined for more pain, we will deal with it. If we are destined for more of the same, we are already dealing with it. If we are destined for joy, in whatever form deemed fit for us, we will embrace it and be forever grateful. </span></div>
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<br /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: #990000;">I am letting go of February 24, 2012</span></b> – the day I conceived. </span></div>
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<br /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: #b45f06;">I am letting go of March 7, 2012</span></b> – the day we got our confirmation – the happiest day of my life.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b>I am letting go of April 16, 2012</b></span> – the day I miscarried – the day we lost an irreplaceable part of our hearts – the worst day of my life. </span></div>
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<br /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: #bf9000;"><b>I am letting go of November 19, 2012</b></span> (in advance) – the day our Unborn should have been due. </span></div>
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<br /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So finally, I am letting go of grief. Letting go, but never forgetting. I don’t know if grief is a seven-stage process, but I’ve been through it. I was drowning in it. But somehow I managed to force my head above the water and find the air again. And while I know I’ll never be the same, I also know I can survive. I know I can find inspiration beyond the darkness. And I know it’s OK to let go – when I’m ready. And today, I am ready. It has taken every single one of the past 150 (exactly) days, and every single hug, word of sympathy and shed tear, but I have finally found that “better place.”</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">This Autumn, I am wiping the slate clean, going with the flow, come what may, hell or high water, and all those other lovely clichés. And when we come through on the 2013 side of winter, we’ll just see where we sit. </span><br />Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03449939505555010004noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995009541388731316.post-32286327790651758412012-08-28T18:12:00.000-07:002012-12-18T13:17:28.197-08:00(Un)expecting<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: justify;">
I like words. I like manipulating them. I like studying them. I like marveling at them. <br />
<br />
And so I had to laugh to myself when I considered a brief stream-of-consciousness moment the other day that ended with a word that is, you might say, pregnant with meaning. You see, I am staring down the barrel of a deadline – a self-inflicted deadline – my 29th birthday. <br />
<br />
I haven’t really thought about it much this past year, strangely enough. My life has been turned upside down since February, and my five-year plan of 24 months ago really doesn’t hold much legitimacy anymore. But I’m getting ahead of myself. The deadline. I long ago decided that I should not be any older than 28 by the time I have my first child. </div>
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It sounds completely silly, I know, especially standing where I am now. And that’s part of what induced that cynical chuckle a few days ago. A few months ago, I would have been quite depressed at yet another reminder that I am still fighting this battle, but my point-of-view evolves so rapidly these days. So I decided I needed to explore the idea of arbitrary expectations in relation to becoming a parent. <br />
<br />
Expecting. How fitting this word has become a stand-in for the state of being pregnant. Maybe I should title the blog post “Great Expectations.” But that’s too cliché. “Expecting”? Now there would be an amusing linguistics experiment – how many readers would see that word and assume I was announcing the long-awaited achievement? No, I’ve lived with too many expectations (I’m sensing a theme) about this journey for too long. I want the title of this post to reflect my end goal in writing it – to break free from these ideas of what should be, what should happen, what check marks are required in order to be what I should be. (There, now you’ve gotten a glimpse into the inner-workings of my mind. You lucky ducks.)<br />
<br />
So there it is. <br />
<br />
Expecting:<br />
1) Expect – believe strongly; anticipate<br />
2) Pregnant – carrying; expectant; in a family way; with child<br />
3) Abide – stop temporarily and wait for<br />
4) Assume – believe; take for granted<br />
5) Believe – assume or suppose<br />
6) Conceive (no, not that kind of conceive) – understand <br />
<br />
These are the first six synonyms for “expecting” from Roget’s online thesaurus. There are 47, by the way. I was curious where the pregnancy definition would fall, so I casually looked it up. But as I started to peruse further, I realized my blog entry was about to write itself. I have experienced a progression of the definition of each of these along the path of infertility. If I had looked at this list several years ago, these words would have meant nothing more to me than their face value. What a magical thing perspective is. <br />
<br />
So here it is. The more complete version of these definitions that I have learned and now know by heart. <br />
<br />
<b>1) Expect – believe strongly; anticipate.</b> This is a multifunctional definition because, at first, I <span style="color: magenta;">anticipated</span><i> </i>a very easy fix. Why not? Modern medicine is a marvel. Expectation = shattered. What I’ve learned is life doesn’t revolve around easy fixes (color me sheltered and privileged). But I now <span style="color: magenta;">believe strongly</span> in the power of taking what comes and attacking with every tool available, even if those tools are not what I <span style="color: magenta;">expected</span><i> </i>them to be. <br />
<br />
<b>2) Pregnant – carrying; expectant; in a family way; with child.</b> Well…really. How should I tackle this one? Let me count the ways. Here’s the deal: Becoming <span style="color: magenta;">pregnant </span>is not the be all and end all. It is a fragile, random phenomenon that doesn’t care about your expectation that pregnancy will result in a <span style="color: magenta;">family way</span>. My clock started ticking years ago, and I have been <span style="color: magenta;">with child</span> mentally and emotionally since then. “Expecting” a child does not have to mean that pregnancy is required. Just ask any childless parent if they are expecting. We are <span style="color: magenta;">carrying </span>that child with us long before that first heartbeat is detected. <br />
<br />
<b>3) Abide – stop temporarily and wait for.</b> I was impatient two years ago, expecting instant gratification, when I stopped taking birth control and started taking ovulation tests. I was impatient when I visited my OB/GYN and attempted five months of Clomid. I was impatient when I put my faith in Miracle Metformin. And I was impatient when I expected one round of hormone therapy would make my dream come true. I have <span style="color: magenta;">abided</span> the disappointment inherent in impatience, and I now look forward knowing that life doesn’t accept five-year plans and that <span style="color: magenta;">temporary </span>can feel permanent from the inside out, but the wait just might make the <span style="color: magenta;">waited for</span> that much sweeter in the end. <br />
<br />
<b>4) Assume – believe; take for granted.</b> You know what they say about those who <span style="color: magenta;">assume</span>, right? I have been humbled by the intricacies involved with the miracle of life. And I have been beaten down by my delusions of being in control. The day-to-day is one thing, but I did not – could not – understand how small and powerless we humans truly are. One would expect such an epiphany to crumble one’s confidence. But I now understand that it is completely unfair to expect we can take on the responsibility of such a thing as creating life onto our frail, mortal shoulders. It is unfair and it is also arrogant. So many people <span style="color: magenta;">take for granted</span> the miracle of regular ovulation, of conception, of a viable and then a healthy pregnancy, of birth and the blessing of a child. I not only <span style="color: magenta;">believe</span>, I know I will not take any of that for granted ever again. <br />
<br />
<b>5) Believe – assume or suppose.</b> See Number 4. And add my deep <span style="color: magenta;">belief </span>that parents can be made in a number of ways, and families can come in all shapes and sizes if true love and humility lie at the heart. And my belief that my child is patiently waiting to join our family. <br />
<br />
<b>6) Conceive – understand.</b> What I <span style="color: magenta;">understand </span>today – all of what I have written in this post and throughout my brief history as a blogger, plus everything unspoken – I never conceived of two years ago. And I am pretty sure it would be impossible to <span style="color: magenta;">conceive </span>of what this journey is – what it means, what it feels like, how it shapes a person and a couple – without going through it. I never knew I could withstand such pain - a pain that will never truly go away. The wound may scar over, but that scar remains as a reminder of all I've learned and all I cannot conceive of that is coming my way and that is still yet to learn. I also never understood what a beautiful camaraderie and silver lining could come out of the most difficult experience of my life to date. <i>(Little known irony as a side note to 5 & 6: My husband and I wear matching lime green advocacy bracelets for infertility awareness. They read “Believe – Conceive.” Visit <a href="http://www.momatlast.com/">www.momatlast.com</a> to get yours today!)</i><br />
<br />
So the lesson from all this, I suppose, is expecting can take many forms, including but not exclusive to the “What to Expect...” variety. The greatest lesson I’ve learned is not to expect anything when it comes to this journey. Doing so has brought me great disappointments and pleasant (you heard me right) surprises, but never the results I anticipated.<br />
<br />
And so it is ironic and fitting that an expectation I placed on myself years ago would come back to me on the figurative eve of my 29th birthday and help me realize I’ve reached a turning-point at which I must articulate one more expectation. But I think I’ll call it something different this time. Let it instead be an aspiration (Roget’s: “goal; hope”). Out of fairness to myself and the millions of to-be families, I give up all expectations surrounding my ideas of “family building.” Instead I will dare to <span style="color: magenta;">hope </span>but also attempt to keep my mind open and uncluttered by the details along the way to my <span style="color: magenta;">goal</span>. <br />
<br />
So bring on Year 29. I expect it will be full of the unexpected. </div>
Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03449939505555010004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995009541388731316.post-50146013987982347182012-08-07T19:13:00.000-07:002012-08-07T19:13:21.221-07:00My "Babies"<br />
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Today’s Facebook community question from <a href="http://www.resolve.org/" target="_blank">RESOLVE:The National Infertility Association</a>: <i>How do your pets help you through the
infertility journey?</i></div>
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Needless to say (if you know me at all), this topic
screamed “blog post” at me. But before I get ahead of myself, there are a
few things you need to know about our two cats, Dante and Subie (pronounced
SOO-bee). In my small circle, these cats have become…well, let’s call it like
it is…legendary.</div>
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I adopted Dante more than six years ago from a
college friend (whose previously stray cat happened to be pregnant when he took
her in) upon my graduation. All of the kittens in this litter were pitch black,
despite their creamy-white Siamese mother. My sister and I picked Dante up on
my way home from college in McMinnville, Oregon, for the last time, and we
spent the whole trip trying to christen him with the perfect name. We
finally agreed on Dante Andrew Mao. There are very specific reasons for
each of his three names, but I’ll try to keep the tangents to a minimum.
Just keep in mind Dante Alighieri once wrote a little poem about a very
southern clime. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6EbrTc8ofoYBb8CPR_Jktap-dFwPlwEVEqgXfHJshAMiamZVRyKtkKF4e_cV0Q3wRQcxqY8HJ4TzimvGnwBxnS5OLbmQde8mZB1u6Ot3YpkncHCXa1HqgvtF5ARrUz0S-gAwDMwsfwvs/s1600/140.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6EbrTc8ofoYBb8CPR_Jktap-dFwPlwEVEqgXfHJshAMiamZVRyKtkKF4e_cV0Q3wRQcxqY8HJ4TzimvGnwBxnS5OLbmQde8mZB1u6Ot3YpkncHCXa1HqgvtF5ARrUz0S-gAwDMwsfwvs/s200/140.JPG" width="150" /></a>Dante is a tough character to describe. He
likes to talk – a lot – in many voices that my husband and I can distinguish to
the point of near-conversational, inter-species communication. He is
smart – creepy smart at time. He’s very adept at opening doors, and he
plays obnoxious games (such as “Run out of or into any door as soon as it’s
opened just because I can make the humans chase me”) just to be obstinate.
A cat should not be able to comprehend obstinacy, but I’d bet my next paycheck
Dante does. Example: He once stole a dollar bill from my cousin’s pocket
as she was lying on the couch and proceeded to run away with it. She
followed him and found it jammed under his litter box as if he were stashing it
out of sight before she caught up to him. </div>
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Dante is goofy beyond all description, always doing
something to make us question his sanity, like standing as close to a wall as
possible, looking up at the ceiling and howling in his “talkin’ to walls” voice
while lolling his head back and forth. But then I remember – he’s a CAT.
But he’s the most human cat I’ve ever met, and I’m pretty sure there are
degrees of sanity when it comes to the feline species. </div>
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But as ornery as he is, Dante is all bark and only
rarely bite. He’s a giant (and I do mean fat) ball of black fluff and
yellow eyes. And he loves me unconditionally. He’s been known to show affection
to others if the mood so strikes, but he is definitely a mama’s boy, and, in
his eyes, I am his mama – his one, true love. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN2Xtxkgzx7TYWvtUM8LXDdMe3WJuUOSS72Mlz9yKWaV8TFaDkuTIVJJv2V_5ZI8a3BUopRYfiQSlwlg3tFRjti-dmi7u1kN8Ra99rmuJLLxwmDwVSBJldyhhrHiabQnZYIiyb_Xt5Vo8/s1600/Photo1+%285%29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN2Xtxkgzx7TYWvtUM8LXDdMe3WJuUOSS72Mlz9yKWaV8TFaDkuTIVJJv2V_5ZI8a3BUopRYfiQSlwlg3tFRjti-dmi7u1kN8Ra99rmuJLLxwmDwVSBJldyhhrHiabQnZYIiyb_Xt5Vo8/s200/Photo1+%285%29.jpg" width="150" /></a>Subie is a beautiful white and gray four-year-old
tabby who we not-so-reluctantly adopted from my cousin after she discovered his
fondness for climbing her months-old daughter like a scratching post.
That should have been a sign of the emotional instability to come, but as soon
as we saw him, we were hooked. </div>
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Subie is the quintessential cat – with a twist. He
is prissy – a constant groomer – and he is a comfort creature to the max. He’s
stand-offish unless affection is granted on his terms. He loves to
play with anything and he loves to rough up his “brother.” That is, when
he’s not grooming him instead. We joke that Subie should have been a mama
cat. </div>
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The twist, you ask? He requires twice-daily doses
of Prozac. I’m not being witty when I say that – he really does take
Prozac – the same formula prescribed to humans only chicken flavored. You see,
Subie has a little anxiety problem. And by little, I mean
spraying-the-walls, making-himself-sick-to-the-point-of-pet-ER-visit
anxiety. Oh, not to mention special-prescription (i.e. expensive)-food
anxiety. We can’t pinpoint the causes, but, let’s face it, all that
really matters are the effects. But when we weigh the options of dealing with
and funding his kitty mental health or living without him, there’s only one way
we could go. One look at him splayed out at the foot of the bed, basking in a
bliss only he seems able to achieve, and your heart completely and irreversibly
melts. </div>
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That’s a long way of saying our cats have a very
special place in our lives and precise roles to play in our home. So it’s
a little hard to differentiate how they’ve helped us along our “infertility
journey” from how they’ve impacted our lives in general. Here’s my take on
it. </div>
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They are a diversion from the frustration and
drudgery. Whether it be the new, off-the-wall weird thing they are doing at the
moment or the unpleasant duty of cleaning up their bodily fluids, they are a
distraction, a reminder that everyday life continues on. There is a world
outside of myself. Here are these small, seemingly insignificant life
forms that need our attention and care right now. They don’t care if my
ovulation test was positive or negative or what dose of hormones I need to inject today – they just want their nightly crunchy
food and will whine until that manna is delivered. </div>
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They are comic relief – all the time. I can’t
remember the last 24-hour period to pass during which one or both of the little
beasts did not make me laugh out loud at least once. Even when I’ve been in the
depths of despair, I was guaranteed to crack a smile or let slip a chuckle at
watching Subie’s “wind-up” butt wiggle as he stalked a scrap of paper or at
hearing Dante “chatter” with the pigeons that roost on our neighbor’s house,
the would-be companions he so longs to befriend. </div>
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They are training ground for parenthood, some have
said. Let me say up front that I know taking care of a couple of cats is
nowhere near what caring for a child is. I’m not delusional. But
consider the following: they are completely dependent on us. I am
positive they would not make it in the wild. Well, maybe Subie, but
definitely not Princess Dante. We change their diapers (litter box), and
they have scheduled feedings. We have to take them for check-ups and the
occasional (God forbid frequent) ER visit. We try to teach them to share
their toys and not bully each other. We have to arrange for a babysitter
when we’re out of town. No, it’s not to the degree of caring for a child,
but being a (responsible) pet owner has to count for something in the life
experience column leading into parenthood. Especially being the pet owner
of two very high-maintenance felines. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoj7IFDHBjJMG0wwJvlep6MdP_XbnvV6eUXUsJROIov29_kdXX59CJLptEjTEPSSPkk94lOftRi5clCCy_x_sM1FahWbThLoNhaR8VYwdnFbAEkdp779GZ6z8MaxlrA2LWxdfAj_5iUw8/s1600/Photo1+%283%29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoj7IFDHBjJMG0wwJvlep6MdP_XbnvV6eUXUsJROIov29_kdXX59CJLptEjTEPSSPkk94lOftRi5clCCy_x_sM1FahWbThLoNhaR8VYwdnFbAEkdp779GZ6z8MaxlrA2LWxdfAj_5iUw8/s200/Photo1+%283%29.jpg" width="150" /></a>They are a vast comfort along the wasteland of this
path. All true animal lovers (sadly, not all pet owners can be classified
as such) know the magic of that unique connection between the human soul and
the soul of a beloved furry (or not so much) creature. Many of us have
undoubtedly experienced the healing power of that warm, breathing lump of fur
sitting in our lap, ignorant of all of life’s injustices and pain, simply
soaking up every ounce of affection, and in return, loving us the way only they
can. How many times in the past six years have I sat lost in my own despair
only to look down and see Dante gazing up with complete adoration (the kind
discriminatingly reserved for dogs) and communicating to me that no matter what
happens in this life, he will always be right there ready to head boop me and
purr at my slightest touch? Chicken soup for the soul, indeed. </div>
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And so now, as I traverse the greatest physical and
emotional challenge of my life, here is yet another silver lining: true
acknowledgement of just why we put up with what “outsiders” may consider
ridiculous devotion to our pets. Yes, they can be (are) dirty. Yes,
they can be expensive. Yes, their behavior baffles the human brain at
times. But nothing can replace how Subie and Dante, my “babies,” have
enriched my life and strengthened my soul at a time when circumstances threaten
to strip it bare and leave it for dead. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPJMYLbIMtu0xkwd9iijgyACd6NV6TOZOloiRQNpNC8tihw4CVC47H4Ljy8MgTC-1J3ISFq_TkuK44HKp3AR129_2DAtmNmUJquohoh71zE7X8SQtxYNg4wwrIq3nqyY5VlKWtQOFu0Uo/s1600/155.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPJMYLbIMtu0xkwd9iijgyACd6NV6TOZOloiRQNpNC8tihw4CVC47H4Ljy8MgTC-1J3ISFq_TkuK44HKp3AR129_2DAtmNmUJquohoh71zE7X8SQtxYNg4wwrIq3nqyY5VlKWtQOFu0Uo/s320/155.JPG" width="320" /></a>There has never been a time in my life when I’ve
lived in a pet-less home. Even in the dorm days of college, my aquarium
always contained at least one fish (rest their toilet-flushed souls). And
I never intend to be pet-less. With a little luck, a lot of money, and
the perfect storm of treatment options, I will soon have a child who will grow up with
these two little fur balls who, unbeknownst to their oblivious little beings,
have been a part of my infertility journey all along. </div>
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<br /></div>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03449939505555010004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995009541388731316.post-28839426770294374522012-07-24T19:22:00.000-07:002012-07-24T19:22:11.485-07:00Apology<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: justify;">
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I can see him. He's sitting on my living room floor between the coffee table and the love seat. He has dark hair, bright, curious eyes, and a wide, luminescent smile. He turns away from whatever he is playing with and looks at me, his mommy.</div>
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This is the image I see every time I lie down on the table for an acupuncture treatment, close my eyes and settle in for the hour-long session. It is fitting that I had an appointment the morning following my last <a href="http://pregnantpauseblog.blogspot.com/2012/07/sick-tired.html" target="_blank">post</a>, in which I pretty much complained about the physical weariness that sometimes gets the better of me. Leaving my last appointment, I felt ashamed for dedicating my energies to whining. I am more far-sighted than that. </div>
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And besides...there is a soul. It is out there waiting for its physical vessel, its chance to be born into this world and grow up with Jeff and Amanda Delapena doting on it, loving it beyond measure, providing for and guiding it throughout the hills and valleys of life. It is my duty to not lose sight of my responsibility to do all in my power to provide that vessel for that precious soul. Or at the very least, provide a home for it. The physical aches and pains, the emotional twists and turns - it all evaporates when I close my eyes and picture my son. All that's left is the nearly unbearable longing and drive to make that vision a reality.</div>
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And so this is my apology to you, my child, for forgetting your face. For getting wrapped up in the daily, weekly, monthly routines - the details of the how trumping the overarching, all-important why. I am sorry for those moments of despair and the urge to ask if it's all worth it. Of course it is. When you are born, I want you to know that your mom and dad wanted you so badly we were willing to sacrifice anything. But more than that, we were willing to sacrifice anything without regret.</div>
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This is not about me. Really. It's not. It is not about Clomid, Metformin and Follistim. It's not about Progesterone, follicles, hCG, and glucose levels. It's not about the Paleo diet and cutting out caffeine. It's not about Day 1 or Day 12 or Day 28. It's not about money and time off work for appointments. It's not about negative results and disappointment. It's not about message boards and <i>What to Expect</i>. It's not the ticking of that primal biological clock. It's not even about matching DNA.</div>
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This IS about love and our family. It's about future camping trips and vacations to Disneyland. It's about playdates with Brody, or Brynn, or Cassidy, or Frannie, or Aubrey and Kylie, or Kamiya, Kaci, Sophia, Hailey and Tyson. It's about Christmas at Grandma and Grandpa's house, and it's about baking cookies with Auntie Sarah. It's weekends filled with morning cartoons and visits to the park and Crayola artwork wallpapering the refrigerator. It's about learning to read and ride a bike. It's scraped knees, dentist appointments, the occasional flu and a lot of hugs and dried tears. It's lullabies and nightlights and moments of stillness. It's trick-or-treating and school plays. It's daddy showing you the stars on a clear night or mommy chaperoning your first field trip.</div>
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It's about the bliss of the mundane. It's about innocence and wonder and dreams.</div>
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This is about a promise to that unborn soul. It is all for the love your mommy and daddy already have for you and all the love you will feel for all of your life-to-be. It is the scar we will forever carry as a reminder of what we lost and what we cherish and what will be the greatest blessing and miracle and knowing we will never take you for granted. It is a love too great for two hearts to keep to themselves. It's about that little boy and his carefree smile. And maybe he has a twin sister.</div>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03449939505555010004noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995009541388731316.post-53679666593674511812012-07-17T18:05:00.001-07:002012-07-17T18:05:50.407-07:00Sick & Tired<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">*Warning: The following may (will) contain
unbridled ranting, raving, and generally un-serene sentiments. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">Following that disclaimer, I have to start
by saying everything - almost anything - will be worth it if, in the end, we
finally have a successful pregnancy and our child filling out our little
family. And I'm not looking for sympathy - what I endure I know I've
brought on myself with the bigger picture in mind. But we all need to
vent sometimes. And those times when I start feeling sorry for myself is
when I know I've got to release the pressure valve a little and try my best to
crawl back to my happy place. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">But, while I've tried very hard to
maintain some underlying positivity to the tone of my posts, I can't always eek
out the silver lining of my situation. Case in point: my poor, abused body.
Which, yes, I realize comes with the territory of child bearing in general, but
it sure would be nice to have a child to bear in exchange for the toll we chose
to take on my body. At this point, I'm left with 2+ years of physical
beat down and nothing to show for it but a perpetually empty bank account,
tried patience and a scar from what might have been. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">That it has been two years, pretty much
uninterrupted, of feeling all-in-all crappy (word choice be damned!), I have
gone back and forth in my ability to rise above it. For the most part, the
psychological turmoil has been front and center, leaving my body to take the
brunt of my all-out warfare against my infertility. But lately, I've been
inches away from "uncle." </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">It may help if I paint the picture.
Or, rather, provide a snapshot of my Independence Day. And I literally
mean July 4, 2012. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">Start with the third urinary tract
infection (complete with Urgent Care visit) I've had since September. Add
to it the digestive issues, which most likely caused the UTI in the first
place, brought on as side effects to the fertility-related medication I've been
on for a year and a half. Plus an atomic head cold instigated by a weak
immune system worn out from fighting the UTI and sustaining the super-drug
antibiotic swallowed to wipe out the UTI and any other good bacteria that just
happen to be caught off guard. Oh, not to mention (but I will anyway) the
perfect timing and ironic rare appearance of "Aunt Flow" - who visits
me MAYBE three times a year (the whole reason we're in this mess to begin with)
and her gift of an oh, so special brand of nearly faint-inducing pain...the
lingering remnants of the miscarriage rubbing salt into the wound I thought was
finally beginning to heal. Add it all together and you get me lying on the
couch most of the day on the 4th of July, wallowing in self-pity, Kleenex,
ibuprofen and cranberry juice, praying the neighbors won't burn our house down
to top it off. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">It really was the perfect storm, and it
laid me low mentally and physically to the point where I threw up my hands (at
least it wasn't my lunch) and declared, "I am sick and tired of being sick
and tired."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">This all hit me at once, but it made me
reflect on the very physical aspects of fertility treatment and the ongoing torture we'll put our bodies through for that ultimate goal. We tend to
focus on the emotional frustration and pain and the medical diagnoses and
treatments, but let's not forget about the day-to-day side effects we tolerate
because we have no other option. For me, this has been a very gradual,
trial-and-error process. It started with the end of my birth control days
and the short-lived introduction of at-home ovulation tests. I had delusions of
normalcy in those days. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">From there, knowing something wasn't
functioning right, I began taking a low dose (quickly followed by progressively
higher doses) of Clomid, prescribed by my doctor month after failed month for
about half a year. Let me tell you about Clomid. That is, if you do
not suffer from infertility, as Clomid is probably the most frequently
prescribed remedy for infertility there is, and if you're infertile, you've no doubt learned about it already. Clomid is designed to stimulate
one's ovaries and, ideally, force ovulation from ovaries not used to regularly
ovulating. It does this hormonally, and medical professionals determine
if you've ovulated through a blood test at the end of each cycle. This was
also the beginning of my needle days. Clomid side effects, for me,
included dizziness, headaches, bloating, hot flashes, and general skin-crawling
craziness. Call it PMS on steroids or a preview of menopause - take your pick.
Each month I would take these tiny, inconspicuous white pills, live through the
lovely side effects, go into the lab for a blood test (which sounds easy enough
but just ask any lab tech who's ever tried to find my veins) and then get the
news from my doctor's office that no, in fact I did not ovulate this month.
Multiply that by five or six cycles, and what you get is me moving on to the
next saintly drug: Metformin. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">When I looked at the word Metformin just
now, my twisted brain automatically read Mephistopheles. Appropriate. You may not know
this, but Metformin is the Devil. It's one of the most common
"non-invasive" treatments for Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS), but I
would argue it's about as invasive at it comes - I swallow one to three of
these pills a day, depending on my stamina, and in return Metformin tears me up from
the inside out (details deliberately omitted). </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">Metformin is a drug originally designed
for mild diabetes. It addresses abnormal sugar levels and insulin processing,
which happen to go hand-in-hand with PCOS, and physicians stumbled across it's
ability to correct PCOS by accident when diabetic women started getting
pregnant right and left after starting to take Metformin. I have heard it
called a miracle drug for infertile women. To me, it is the six-month
reason why I broke down last Christmas and decided to get serious about seeing
a fertility specialist. Metformin just wasn't miraculous enough to do
anything but make me miserable. Imagine my dismay when my fertility doc told me
to keep taking it anyway. So for now, the Devil gets to possess me
indefinitely.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">Jump to February and the beginning of - ta
da - hormone injections, bi- and tri-weekly ultrasounds (yes, the invasive
kind), frequent blood draws and interuterine insemination, coupled with weekly
acupuncture and diet overhaul. As bad as Clomid was, injecting concentrated
female hormones into my stomach every night was, well, skin-crawling crazy times 10. At
least, for my sake and the sake of those around me, it was only for a
week. Follow it up with the insemination - think of the worst bloating
you've experienced and add in ovaries like water-logged baseballs. Pleasant.
But by that point, I had resigned myself to whatever physical sacrifices I
needed to make. And, in hindsight, it did lead me to pregnancy. It
was a long road of what I know now to be ineffectual experimentation, but at
least we finally have a formula that theoretically works. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">Looking back from where I stand now after
playing my role as lab rat, with miscarriage as the finale, and looking forward
knowing round two of the injections is staring me down, it's difficult to not
get disheartened, to not let that poisonous thought creep in - what if it's all
been for nothing? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">I know there are women out there who have
been through all of this time and time again, and those who have endured even
more. I am in awe of your resilience and persistence. I hope I have the
stamina to keep up. And I by no means intend to belittle in any way the
physical trials of pregnancy of any woman, but at this point, I say bring it
on...please? I'm dying for physical/hormonal trauma that has not been artificially forced upon my body, even if by my own hand. Ugh, why can't I be
"normal"?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">Well, I think that about covers my tantrum
for now. Thank you for your patience as we've worked through this
unscheduled purge of pent-up hostility. We now return you to your
regularly scheduled programming with, hopefully, more serenity to come. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">*I dedicate this
post to all of the women suffering some degree of infertility who have endured
the literal pains of treatment for months and years. If you are just
starting out on your own personal fertility experiment, you have PCOS, and you
want to know more about any of these treatments from someone who's been there,
email me at <a href="mailto:jeffandamandad@gmail.com">jeffandamandad@gmail.com</a>
or message me on Facebook. There are more nitty, gritty details I have
left out for the simple grossness or heeby-jeeby factor.</span></i></div>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03449939505555010004noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995009541388731316.post-73823791600340035122012-07-09T12:17:00.000-07:002012-07-09T12:17:25.279-07:00A Little Something New<div style="text-align: justify;">
About a month ago, I was contacted by <a href="http://broadsheet360.com/" target="_blank">Broadsheet360</a>, a local online magazine, and asked if I would be interested in submitting a piece for their July issue, themed "The Back Seat." </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I was humbled and honored to submit my perspective on the infertility journey, and I'm pleased to share it here. I also want to thank Broadsheet360 for giving me the opportunity to let their readers in on what has become a way of life for so many men and women.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Check it out here: <a href="http://broadsheet360.com/perspective/left-behindness/" target="_blank">Left-Behindness</a></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03449939505555010004noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995009541388731316.post-26745526999957931752012-06-23T09:28:00.000-07:002012-06-23T09:28:21.527-07:00The Plan<div style="text-align: justify;">
It was slightly surreal walking back into the Oregon Fertility Institute office a few weeks ago for our first follow-up appointment with my doctor since losing the baby. We were starting from scratch, but not entirely.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
It saddens me to say – but it’s nonetheless the truth – I did not feel the same excitement this second time around. The first time I entered OFI, my eyes were set on the goal of getting pregnant. I was determined and full of a fire to get results. I could not comprehend the latent tragedy that conception holds and the sheer weight of the miracle of life. Even when I was warned my chances of miscarriage were higher because of PCOS, I thought it could never happen to me. The cynical side of me said it wouldn’t happen because I would never get pregnant in the first place. But the deep down, underneath me secretly – desperately – hoped and believed I would get pregnant. And that side of me was right, regardless of how things turned out. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
So often, women experiencing infertility only focus on the getting pregnant part – it’s what has eluded and frustrated us for so long. We will sacrifice everything in pursuit of this – our finances, our bodies, our time, and, ultimately, our big-picture reality. We can’t see – can’t comprehend – anything beyond finally seeing those two lines on a pregnancy test, or hearing the magic number confirming that hCG level climbing above the negative. I know I was not prepared for the possibilities. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
For those of you still following along…The Plan. My doctor wants to take the exact same approach as before – same timeline, same dosages. The bottom line: I got pregnant very quickly and very easily (relatively) with the hormone injections. Everything internally developed normally in support of the pregnancy. It just wasn’t an embryo that was meant to be. So we’ll trudge along as before, with a little closer monitoring of hormone and sugar levels for good measure. It’s a sound plan – one I can’t argue with. And at the same time, I continue with my shiny, new diet and weekly acupuncture sessions. The difference this time? My goal is not just pregnancy, but a healthy miracle to fill up my arms and my heart. A challenge that is much more daunting knowing the true difficulty. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
Going back to OFI the second time, after all was said and done, my worldview was – is – tremendously changed. I am wary (and weary) now. Older and wiser? Well, maybe not. Afraid? Perhaps – mostly apprehensive. A thousand and two “what ifs” now linger in my mind, all leading to the ultimate: What if it happens again?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
I am resilient, but I am not immune to an erosion of hope over time. And I don’t know if my heart can take that blow again. I don’t think I have enough tears left. Yes, I know I need to stay positive, but I also know a harsh reality I did not before. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
But here is the crazy, completely human, thing about hope that I have learned through all of this – it persists in spite of everything. And after all, my resolve to press on outweighs my fears and doubts. I know an even stronger “what if” would be the unknown of what might have been if we don’t try one more time. Still the deep down, underneath me sees our child at the end of this long, dark tunnel. And that is the only thing that matters. Our journey may take us to places we aren’t prepared to go, but it will continue to shape our perspective. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
So with these thoughts as one giant caveat, we will soon be starting our treatment again. We’re moving forward, mind, heart, body and savings account. And truly knowing now we are not in control, we are committing to something much bigger than we can even understand. The greatest investment in our lives, if for no more reason than we are putting ourselves entirely into the process. And the end result? Stay tuned…</div>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03449939505555010004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995009541388731316.post-40580911656219101002012-06-15T13:23:00.000-07:002012-06-15T13:23:37.936-07:00Happy Father's Day<div style="text-align: justify;">
I once saw a commercial - years ago - advertising greeting cards. It must have been close to Father's Day. It was the most perfect Hallmark moment: A young couple sitting down for coffee in a sunny kitchen, the young woman obviously up to something as she slides a card discreetly across the table to her husband, who is taken aback but nonetheless curious. He opens the card and reads, the camera focused on his face as realization creeps in and breaks to sheer, astounded joy. Break to a brief shot of the card that says something about congrats to the first-time dad. The young woman simply smiles, quietly, and sweetly says, "Happy Father's Day." Break to Hallmark logo on a black background (I'm assuming). </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The first time I saw that commercial, I must have still been in high school. But it struck me even then, and I thought, "What a cool way to break that news." Since then, I've always hoped fate and timing would allow me to do something similar - maybe not Father's Day, per se, but a birthday, Christmas, take your pick of annual milestones marked by the candy and greeting card industries. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Alas, here is another Father's Day - another year - upon me, and I have yet to find my perfect Hallmark moment in that bright, sunny kitchen.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
What is it about the infertility journey that places so much attention on the woman - whether it be her fertility issue or simply her fragile emotional state through the seemingly endless frustration and heartache? For as lonely and invisible as we may feel, our male partners - for we, the most fortunate women - stand stoically, silently, strongly behind us, mopping up the puddles we leave in our tearful wake, holding our hands and expressing hope when we can no longer even comprehend the word. This has been, at least, my very lucky experience. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I don't know if I can truly express how badly I want to make my husband a father - he is childless through no fault of his own. When I think of the love, the qualities, and the life he has to pass on, it breaks my heart all over again. And still he is the one to turn to me, squeeze my hand, and tell me it will happen - one way or another - no doubts. For the women facing a similar struggle without that stalwart partner putting your needs before his own, I am truly sorry. If I can imagine any way the battle of infertility could be any worse, it would be facing it alone. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Growing up with the father I have, knowing what an incredible relationship that can be, thinking of the countless memories I cherish so dearly, the injustice of infertility stings me in an entirely new way. And Father's Day, just like Mother's Day, resonates so much deeper in such a complicated, bittersweet way.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
This Father's Day, I say thank you to my dad for being the epitome of fatherhood and for making me appreciate the kind of father I know my husband WILL be one day (soon?). I say congratulations to the fathers new to the gig - you are blessed and deserve this happiness and this responsibility. To the childless fathers, those amazing men - to my husband - I say know how vital you are, know you are loved and appreciated beyond measure, and know that your role in this journey is no less than the very source of strength we draw from when we have nothing left of our own. To you, I can only offer whatever hope I have to share that you will soon be receiving your very own Father's Day card, accompanied by the coy, elated, relieved smile of your tired, adoring partner. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Happy Father's Day. </div>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03449939505555010004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995009541388731316.post-40980044406987522612012-06-08T13:17:00.000-07:002012-06-08T13:17:42.649-07:00It's All About Who You Know<div style="text-align: justify;">
I recently had a friend ask on behalf of a friend who we've consulted to help us conceive, and it got me thinking I should post these resources for others who may be in need of a new direction in their own pursuit. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
Let me start by saying that, although we've suffered loss and numerous frustrations, and although we still have a long way to go, we have been extremely happy with the medical professionals who we've been seeing.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
I will also say that making the decision to seek specialized fertility treatment, beyond what your regular OB/GYN or general practitioner can provide, is a huge step. I know - we ambled on for a year and a half hoping less aggressive steps would be enough, knowing we did not have the over-abundance of funds it would take to see a specialist, but finally realizing it was not going to be enough. <br />
<br />
Biting the bullet and making that commitment to go to that first appointment is difficult for a number of reasons, not least of which being the revelation that you do need that extra help. I felt as if going to a fertility specialist would be admitting there is something wrong with me. Well, it turns out, there is something wrong with me. And there's nothing wrong with that. But once you do make that ultimate commitment, at least from my experience, it's difficult not to go all in. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
I've provided links to these services in previous posts, but here they are in a quick breakdown for easy access. If you are or know someone facing the seemingly insurmountable hurdle of infertility, I urge you to read on. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<u><b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.oregonfertilityinstitute.com/" target="_blank">Oregon Fertility Institute</a>, the practice of Dr. Aimee Chang</span> </b></u><br />
<b>9370 SW Greenburg Rd.<br />Suite #412<br />Portland (really Beaverton/Tualatin)<br />503-292-7734</b> </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<u>What We Love</u><br />
Dr. Chang is reliable, straight-forward and very knowledgeable. I have never left her office feeling she hasn't been completely honest with me or that she hasn't given me the best advice.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
The office is very small, so the one-on-one attention is incredible, both from Dr. Chang and her assistants. There is a very noticeable difference between her office and a larger facility, such as the Vancouver Clinic, in the attentiveness and genuine care I feel going to OFI. At a time when you are at your most vulnerable, this is one of the most valuable things you can get out of your doctor's office.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
I have never had a doctor take time to call me herself to give me test results, let alone a doctor who would do so after hours, on her cell, driving home from work. And Dr. Chang’s medical assistants are very helpful and quick to call you back to take your questions or relay information you need. All in all, OFI is very personal, which is exactly what one needs when going through such a sensitive experience.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
What I most wanted in a fertility specialist was a) someone who would be upfront and honest with me because leading on an infertile couple is the worst thing you can do; and b) someone to hold my hand as I entered such foreign waters. I believe I got both with Dr. Chang and her office. And they are open on Saturdays.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<u>The Cons</u><br />
The office is in Beaverton, so it's a bit of a hike, at least for those in the 'Couv. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
A couple of the medical assistants are relatively new to the medical field, so their confidence in doing the more minor procedures, such as blood drawing, can be shaky sometimes. But, I also have very tough veins to find, so part of that blame lies with me. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<u>The Price</u><br />
The price is steep for those without health insurance that covers fertility treatment. Our first round of treatment, out-of-pocket for ultrasounds, medication, consultations, bloodwork and interuterine insemination (IUI) was about $3,000. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<u><b><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.blossomclinic.net/" target="_blank">Blossom Clinic</a></span></b></u><br />
<b>3531 NE 15th Ave., Suite A<br />Portland, OR<br />503-287-0886</b></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<u>What I Love</u><br />
I’m going to break this one down a bit. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
Generally, here is what I love:<br />
See my previous entry about <a href="http://pregnantpauseblog.blogspot.com/2012/05/forays-in-alternative-medicine.html" target="_blank">alternative medicine</a>. But overall, Blossom is a fabulous little corner of a shopping complex in North Portland anchored by a Whole Foods. I have found it to be a balm for a tired soul.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
The practitioners offer a variety of services to look at a patient’s health in a holistic manner. They offer acupuncture, massage, nutritional guidance, herbal medicine, but also links to a community and a new perspective in a world monopolized by western medicine – all in support of women’s health. They are women caring for women.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
Through Blossom, I have discovered new ways of perceiving my body and the energies that impact my well-being. I am confident that with the treatment I’ve received at Blossom, paired with the treatment I’ve received from Dr. Chang, I have surrounded myself and my infertility with the most complete plan of attack possible. The only way we could have better odds at having a child naturally, at this point, is if we inherited or won about $15,000. I am so grateful to have added these two completely different and completely complementary weapons to the arsenal in my private war on infertility. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<i>Liz Richards, L.Ac</i><br />
Liz is my acupuncturist, but there are many layers to be found in that single word. She analyzes my condition from a Chinese medicine tradition. She understands what is happening with my body on any given day and how to approach whatever the need may be at that point in time. Liz treats your body, but she also cares for your mental and emotional health. And she listens. I have found myself on numerous occasions just venting my frustrations and knowing they were not falling on deaf ears or even ears that have undoubtedly heard the same frustrations from patient after patient. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<i>Dr. Elise Schroeder, ND</i><br />
Elise is a naturopathic physician, whose specialty lies in female hormonal issues. She helped me find the most appropriate diet for my particular metabolism, which happens to go hand-in-hand with PCOS. But beyond that, she helped me UNDERSTAND how my condition is affected by my metabolism, and vice versa. And like Liz, she takes the time to genuinely listen and understand and offer the feedback you most need.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
Again, I am blown away by how my perception has been so greatly expanded by going to Blossom Clinic. It’s as if we were winding our way through a dimly lit tunnel, going on and on, and all of a sudden we turned a corner and discovered the switch to turn on the bright fluorescent lights showing us everything we’d been missing with such a narrow awareness.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<u>Cons</u><br />
They do not bill insurance; however, they make it as easy as possible for you to bill your insurance yourself. <br />
<br />
They are not open on weekends.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<u>Price</u><br />
Each practitioner sets her rates independently. My weekly acupuncture treatments with Liz are $85. My insurance covers about two-thirds of my acupuncture-related costs. </div>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03449939505555010004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995009541388731316.post-21378064314298317092012-06-03T11:35:00.000-07:002012-06-03T11:35:26.424-07:00"If music be the food of love, play on."<div style="text-align: justify;">
Or, if you like: <span class="huge">"Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness." ~ Maya Angelou </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="huge">At the height of my loneliness and pain, comfort seemed very hard to come by except from the angels in my life. And I'm not sure I can say I found refuge in music - the pain didn't lessen and the tears usually flowed even more freely - but I certainly found a kinship with two songs in particular. Two songs that penetrated through my heartache and tears and soothed something deep down in a way that only music seems to be able to do. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="huge">My husband and I recently discussed a revelation
about music. He turned to me as we were driving home after a much
needed vacation: You know how they say smell is the sense strongest tied
to memory? I think songs are tied just as strongly, perhaps even more.
A particular song encapsulates all of the feelings and events of a specific moment in time in one's life. Well, these two songs will always remind of this time in my life and
conjure the teeter-tottering emotions that have and continue to surround
me. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="huge"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="huge">Knowing how I was able to repeatedly turn to these reliable aural allies, I wish to share them with those who might also find them a comfort. I continue to do so. And I urge, if these lines of poetry strike a chord (pun intended), find your way to the music and curl up in the notes as well as the words. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
I recently discovered Mumford & Sons, and "After the Storm" has a power over me now for which I will always be grateful. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YqUsAHTUPTU">"After The Storm"</a></b><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Mumford & Sons </i></span><br />
<br />
And after the storm, <br />
I run and run as the rains come<br />
And I look up, I look up,<br />
on my knees and out of luck,<br />
I look up.<br />
<br />
Night has always pushed up day <br />
You must know life to see decay<br />
But I won't rot, I won't rot<br />
Not this mind and not this heart,<br />
I won't rot.<br />
<br />
And I took you by the hand <br />
And we stood tall,<br />
And remembered our own land,<br />
What we lived for.<br />
<br />
<b>And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears. <br /> And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.<br /> Get over your hill and see what you find there,<br /> With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.</b><br />
<br />
And now I cling to what I knew <br />
I saw exactly what was true<br />
But oh no more.<br />
That's why I hold,<br />
That's why I hold with all I have.<br />
That's why I hold.<br />
<br />
I will die alone and be left there. <br />
Well I guess I'll just go home,<br />
Oh God knows where.<br />
Because death is just so full and man so small.<br />
Well I'm scared of what's behind and what's before.<br />
<br />
And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears. <br />
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.<br />
Get over your hill and see what you find there,<br />
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.<br />
<br />
And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears. <br />
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.<br />
Get over your hill and see what you find there,<br />
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">________________________</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And KT Tunstall has been a favorite of mine for years (LOVE her). She has always spoken to me, but I've rediscovered "Heal Over."<span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S9N-33T9Fvs" target="_blank">"Heal Over"</a></b></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">KT Tunstall</span></i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
It isn't very difficult to see why<br />
You are the way you are<br />
Doesn't take a genius to realize<br />
That sometimes life is hard<br />
It's gonna take time<br />
But you'll just have to wait<br />
You're gonna be fine<br />
But in the meantime<br />
<br />
Come over here lady<br />
Let me wipe your tears away<br />
Come a little nearer baby<br />
Coz you'll heal over<br />
Heal over<br />
Heal over someday<br />
<br />
And I don't wanna hear you tell yourself<br />
That these feelings are in the past<br />
You know it doesn't mean they're off the shelf<br />
Because pain's built to last<br />
Everybody sails alone<br />
But we can travel side by side<br />
Even if you fail<br />
You know that no one really minds<br />
<br />
Don't hold on but don't let go<br />
I know it's so hard<br />
You've got to try to trust yourself<br />
I know it's so hard, so hard<br />
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Come over here lady<br />
Let me wipe your tears away<br />
Come a little nearer baby<br />
Coz you'll heal over, heal over, heal over someday </div>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03449939505555010004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995009541388731316.post-73000940012368528192012-05-28T18:57:00.001-07:002012-05-28T18:57:39.055-07:00Lifelines - A Tribute<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Since I began writing about my struggles and my observations born out of this experience, I have wanted to take a moment to properly thank the angels in my life who have supported me through it all - those people who held me up when all I wanted to do was collapse, curl up in a ball and shut out the entire world. But it is truly harder than I ever imagined putting into words the gratitude I feel in my heart.</div>
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<br />We have been relatively open with our close friends and family from the beginning of our journey. And so the support has mirrored each progressive step and setback. At first I didn't think much of it - friends and family are naturally going to take an interest in such a life event, right? But the more I think about it, the more I realize and appreciate what a miraculous and uncommon thing it is for a cousin to check in, unsolicited, because of genuine interest in the latest update; or to be able to turn to a co-worker for a shoulder to cry on (after having already covered for you for weeks of acupuncture and ultrasound appointments); or to have parents who will drop everything just so you won't have to be alone after receiving the worst news of your life.</div>
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<br />I believe it is human nature to take for granted the so-called "support system" when one really hasn't had it all too hard in life. I did. But I also KNOW that I would have crumbled, melted, fallen irreparably apart these past couple months without the insulation these people created for me. I've said it before, and perhaps it's getting old, but this has been the darkest, most incomprehensible time of my life. But it has also been one of the most valuable - I have learned so much about myself (Body, Mind, Soul) and my husband and this incredible gift called marriage, but also about how remarkably good people are. I look back through Facebook and text messages, and I'm brought to tears by the words and in-between sentiments words can't quite handle. I realize I have been lucky even in my un-luck. </div>
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<br />To my amazing friends - thank you for taking a genuine interest in my personal life - for not asking how things are going simply because it's what you're "supposed" to do. Thank you for letting me vent, for letting me go into those "TMI" details, for understanding my need to find space for the magnitude of my grief even when I could not. </div>
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<br />To my co-workers - see above paragraph - and thank you for being my back-up, for your flexibility in allowing me the flexibility to do what I've needed to do for myself at each step. Thank you for assuring me it's OK if I need to leave early for one of my seemingly endless appointments and that I shouldn't feel guilty for the mental health day to refocus following my personal tragedy. Thank you for reminding me that this support continues into the next chapter, wherever that may take us. </div>
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<br />To my family - thank you for your tact; thank you for reaching out; thank you for your encouragement and love. </div>
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<br />To my parents - thank you for knowing how and when I needed you (as you ever have), for reminding me of the kind of parent I am striving to become, for reminding me that I am still your child no matter how adult my problems may be and that I will always need my mom and dad. </div>
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<br />To my husband - I could go on and on about having a partner who shares this burden, these frustrations, this mix of grief and hope - but some things are even too sacred for a blog. You know my heart, and that is just between us. <br /> </div>
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It is not enough - words and promises can never be for what you all have given - but you have my love and my assurance to be the co-worker, distant relative, friend, daughter, sister or wife you all deserve. And you have my promise that when our sorrow turns to joy, you will be the first people to share that with us too. </div>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03449939505555010004noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995009541388731316.post-29891493514820751632012-05-22T07:37:00.000-07:002012-05-22T07:55:56.313-07:00Forays in Alternative Medicine<div style="text-align: justify;">I’m not one to shy away from new experiences. I’ve lived in Europe and I’ve been skydiving – twice. And all of my recent experience has been nothing if not foreign waters for me. Not that I would have chosen this, but it is what it is and I’ve certainly learned from it. What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, right? And amid all the negativity, I’ve found several silver linings (don’t worry, I’ve got plenty more clichés in the wings) – alternative medicine being one of those. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
When my OB/GYN laid it straight that she could do nothing more for me, and it was time to consider options in the fertility-specialist realm (i.e. aggressive treatment insurance companies consider elective – another topic for another day), my husband and I made a conscious decision to jump in, come what may. Shortly before that, I had already decided we needed a new approach anyway.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
All of this drove me to the magical land of Google, and I stumbled upon the website for <a href="http://www.blossomclinic.net/" target="_blank">Blossom Clinic</a> (shameless plug alert). Blossom is a little, soothing oasis above a Whole Foods in North Portland. I had already heard good things about acupuncture, and Blossom’s website emphasized a focus on infertility and women’s health. To top it off, the testimonials and the owner’s personal story spoke deeply to me of a place that just might turn out to be a perfect fit. I thought, “What the heck – I’ll try anything at this point.” Well, I’m hooked. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
I cannot say definitively that acupuncture is why I conceived, as I simultaneously underwent the hormone treatment through <a href="http://www.oregonfertilityinstitute.com/" target="_blank">Oregon Fertility Institute</a> (another enthusiastic plug). I do know acupuncture treatment definitely helped my work through the side- and after-effects of the miscarriage. And here is what I know absolutely – I’ve unquestioningly benefited spiritually and mentally from acupuncture at Blossom Clinic. And I believe that is a BIG part of this battle. My acupuncturist is more than just the person who sticks a bunch of needles in me every week - she's become a sort of therapist, an objective confidant who lets me vent whatever I am feeling on a given day. To simply take an hour each week just for me – to focus inwardly and process whatever energies happen to be surrounding and permeating me on that day, and then to have those energies corrected through a centuries-old practice, is an incredibly healing experience. The science of it is all a little over my head, but it feels right. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
And Blossom has been more than just acupuncture to me (they offer a number of holistic services). It’s been a new way of looking at and thinking about my condition. Treatments I would never have considered. In addition to the weekly acupuncture, I’ve had several consultations with a naturopathic doctor who focuses on hormonal conditions – pretty much exactly what I needed. In talking to her, I learned basically that my metabolism is broken – it’s not like everyone else’s – and as a result, it inhibits normal hormone balances in my body thereby affecting my ability to normally ovulate, the heart of my infertility. I’ve heard time and again that a “healthy” weight exponentially increases a woman’s ability to conceive, but I’ve never read or heard a reasonable explanation for this or anything more than blanket, generic tips on how to accomplish that goal. Helpful, right?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
Now, I’ve been overweight most of my life. This was the first time any medical professional has told me it’s essentially beyond my control – it’s not my fault. What a weight (no pun intended) off my mind and shoulders. What a liberating thought. “No, Weight Watchers and other low-fat, low-calorie programs will not work for you long term. (Might explain why I so easily regained the 40 pounds I’d lost struggling through Weight Watchers.) You should be eating a high-protein, high-saturated-fat diet – want a snack, eat some bacon. (Huh?) And no sugar – not even fruit.” But wait, that’s not what popular health science has been broadcasting to the world and beating over our heads through endless ads and Oprah spin-offs for years…Thus began the diet overhaul. And in the first two weeks, I lost about 10 pounds. I went on hiatus since becoming pregnant, followed by two weeks of self-indulgence after my miscarriage. But I’m beginning to get back on track, and I’m excited to see the effect – both on my weight and fertility – with a good 2+ months behind me before starting hormone injections again. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
All of this is to illustrate again how my life has been turned upside down in a few months’ time, but I am now a strong believer in looking at a medical problem in a holistic way. And I am beyond grateful for the team of practitioners who have helped guide me on this journey so far – my OB/GYN and fertility doctor, but also my acupuncturist and naturopath. What a gift to have compassionate and talented women like these working to support women like me. To the skeptics, I say keep an open mind if you can. You never know what might change your perceptions and your life. </div>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03449939505555010004noreply@blogger.com0