The Real Feeling on Infertility

I can't say that I ever really "played" with baby dolls as a child. I did have a couple of Barbies, a "Talking Drowsy" doll, a Blythe doll and some Honey Hill Bunch Treehouse set. I had them, but never carried them around, fed them, tucked them in at night or pretended to change a diaper. So I guess the 'maternal' instinct was never quite there.

I remembered around age 8 or 9 talking with my friends about how many kids we wanted to have. My answer was "I don't want any kids. It's too much work".

In my teens, I never had the blessed Aunt Flo' come visit me. Not really. I had some 'episodes' but nothing regularly. I always wondered why I couldn't be like normal girls my age, but did not envy them either. They were all scared of getting pregnant. I just wanted it to happen to me, if at all only once.

In my early 20's, I discovered I have endometriosis and what is called 'Amenorrhea' http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/amenorrhea/DS00581 . I never asked for this. I have been tested for many many years on exactly just what it wrong with me and everyone comes up blank. (No it isn't my thyroid either.) At age 24 I had emergency surgery for a D & C after hemorrhaging due to 'testing my system'. At age 25 I had what is called a LEEP procedure for cancerous cells on my cervix at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore, MD.

I began infertility treatments in my very late 20's. I was seeing a specialist who gave me Clomid and other strict instructions (which really over hormonalized me) and her last straw with me was to perform a Hysteroslapingogram, which was the most painful thing I ever had to endure. http://www.webmd.com/infertility-and-reproduction/guide/hysterosalpingogram-21590 . This test had me an audience of 4 people in the room. It was so painful I didn't know if I should scream or pass out. My doctor (with very lousy bedside manner) said to me that "You are now a patient of the Reproductive Endocrinologist across the hall". I was devastated. I did not know what she found, or why I need to see someone with a profession I didn't understand. I was scared.

I went to see Dr. Pierre Asmar, the kindest man I have ever met. He gave me hope! I went to him and thought that I was actually going to have my dream become a reality! He took a look at my test results and said "This is no problem!" He said I have a Bicornuate Uterus http://medical-dictionary.thefreedictionary.com/Bicornuate+uterus , Polycystic Ovarian Disease http://www.helium.com/items/143679-polycystic-ovary-disease-pcod-symptoms-treatment and a couple of polyps that should not be any trouble and he started me on Glucophage (or Metformin) and Clomid. Well, for two months, just as before, the Clomid did nothing. Then we went on to injectables. This was a drug called Follistim which I personally (daily for 7 days a month) had to inject into my stomach subcutaneously. I had health insurance at the time, and even then two and a half days worth of this drug cost me $540.00 AFTER insurance. For 14 days following, I needed daily (at 7:00 in the morning, no less) trans-vaginal sonograms to check my growing follicles. Meanwhile, I have hope that they will grow and I will have the most precious gift that I made that nobody could take away from me. But month after month, they fail and I wipe the slate clean for the next month and do it all over again. The last month I tried I had gotten a noticeably large follicle and I got to move on to the next step which was to have a major "shot in the butt" with a huge needle. This drug was to release the follicle from the ovary and hopefully have it implant and become my well earned child.

Since I have the PCOD, I did not release that egg and it turned into a cyst the size of a baseball. Then I gave up all this "promise" and "faith". I am decidedly barren (by a power well beyond me) and I will be lonely in my old age alone, unhappy and miserable. It is so hard to be different from every other female you meet. I see pregnant people daily beaming and happy (hell, I work with most of them). I see people who talk bad about their kids when they do simple "kid things". I also see people who don't deserve to have children, who neglect them and do not take to time to nurture them into the responsible human beings God intended them to be. This hurts me so much.

Infertility in a word "sucks" (I do have other words, but I am going to keep it clean). I am clinically manic depressive. I cannot tell you how hard it is to muster up the courage to go out and face another day. My body has deceived me. Of course I constantly ask "WHY GOD?" and wonder why I was chosen. People constantly say to me "Oh, your so good with kids!" and I want to blow their heads off. I love kids, I just don't want to get to close to them. It blackens me inside. I even have the comment "You'll have beautiful children". That one makes me want to hurt myself.

So, this is how infertility feels. I'd rather feel something else.....

Old Pets

I was sitting here pondering while looking at a pet food commercial pop up between games on Pogo for Friskies. It made me think of my first Gerbil, whose name was "Frisky". This pet was given to me by my Moms friend "Miss Donna" when I was sick. Frisky came in a metal cage with a red bottom. I loved him. Of course all good things must come to an end eventually and Frisky had died and was buried beside the tool shed out in the backyard. Over the years, it eventually became a "pet cemetery" with all my critters and fish of my childhood that I had loved.

My first dog (which I consider my sister, we grew up together) was named Ginger. She was a Sheltie. Well, an over-sized Sheltie she was. We were "pups" together. She was the best camping dog ever. Ginger would lead us down the trails in the woods! She loved UPS trucks and would chase after them. She broke her leg a couple of times chasing them. I remember her first cast, red and white wrap like a candy cane. She came home with a plastic football toy. She once bit a meter man coming in the yard to do the electric meter reading while my brother was outside playing in the dirt in the yard. That man could have lost his pants!

My mother was "attacked" by a cat in her childhood, which prevented us from having a cat until a stray wandered to our house one day. Of course I fed it and it didn't want to leave. Little did we know the cat was pregnant!! We went on summer vacation a month later. When we returned this tabby cat was laying on the porch steps with its head laying over the side of the step. I thought "Oh no, we've killed it!!". I thought "We left on vacation and it starved to death". We silently crept up upon the cat (to poke at it?) and it looked up at us like "Hey, where have you been???".

We named her "Ditty" after my Nana saying it was a "Purty little ditty buss" (I guess like Kitty Puss??). Regardless, Ditty was pregnant and blind. We would chase her around the house and she would run into walls. It was funny, although it seems mean. She eventually learned her way around.

We went on vacation (or bay-cation) to Ocean City, MD. When we got back from the beach, Ditty had given birth to 4 new kittens under the porch! One was all blonde (called her Sandy, she was my brothers), one was long-haired and all black (Sabastian - my kitty-we called him Sebby), one was grey tabby (he found a home) and one was orange tabby (he also found a home).

Sebby was also blind. He was outside and had gotten run over by Miss Maryland 1986. The accident crushed his rear end so bad. We didn't know if he was going to live or not. Since that accident cost him 8 of his 9 lives, he lived with it. You could run your hand over his back to pet him and he was so bumpy, but he was loved alot. He had gotten 'stupid' (no kidding, stupid is as stupid does). He would drool, but he was cute. He is the only cat, that even before his accident, would not land on his feet if he fell. This was the start of "indoor cats" for me.

Years go by and time led me out of my parents home where Ditty and Sebby came with. I also inherited another cat from my ex named Smokey. Smokey was let out of the house by a friend that came over and that night Smokey was squashed dead in the street. I cannot tell you the fate of Ditty and Sebby, but I assume after 18 years they are dead now. I had to leave my home and pets behind. I miss them and think of them alot.

I now have a cat named "Mr. B.". He is a torti-point Snowshoe. He is gorgeous. I love my Mr. B. so much. He is 10 years now. I had a cat named "Sunny" who was a very friendly Abyssinian. He was my lovey-cat. He had gotten let out and met his death outside on the street in front of the house. I miss him terribly. Unfortunately some people do not understand what indoor means. Cats are not people, and (obviously) do not have the sense to stay out of the road.

Currently in addition to Mr. B, I have "Miss Gray-see" (so named because she is gray, see?), 2 orange bastard children of Miss Gray-see (which is now Ms. Gray-see), "Nicky" (yellow lab) and "Abby" (black lab mix).

I Love Fireworks!

There is something so exciting about watching fireworks. Is it the anticipation of the "boom" or the shimmery colors of red, purple, gold, green and silver that burst like sparkling flowers into the sky? Fireworks are, in a word, beautiful.

Yesterday was Tammy & Sam's "Annual July 4th Picnic", complete with Fireworks. It was a rainy day and I had my doubts about going initially. I baked my Macaroni and Cheese and headed to Falling Waters, WV. The good thing about a 4th of July picnic in West Virginia is that they are allowed to have "real" fireworks. What I mean by "real" is these are no 'ground sparklers' or 'Roman Candles'. These are honest to God BIG fireworks. I feel it is my own personal showing. Tammy & Sam have 3 acres and their backyard view is breathtaking as it is. On the horizon, you can see fireworks from at least 5 other locations.

The rain did eventually let up. There was a sprinkle here or there. Although the crowd wasn't as large as it usually is, there was still a great turn-out. A bonfire followed the fireworks and s'mores were cooked by all.