Day 7: 7 things

It's hard to believe that we're already seven days into this challenge. While it isn't always easy, so far it is significantly easier than it was last year.  Maybe that's because I actually care about what I'm writing (for the most part) instead of just writing because I feel some sort of obligation to get my stats up.

It's Tuesday night, which means that it's the night before the weekly farmers' market that I operate. Tuesdays are always insanely busy, but tonight was even more so because we had our Parents Orientation session with the speech pathologists. I promise that I will dedicate a whole post to this very deserving topic, but for tonight I need to move rather quickly because I still have many hours left of market prep to do before morning.

I decided that- after last night's pseudo-whiny post- tonight's post had to be positive.  Because I'm tired, I was having a hard time finding inspiration to write something cheerful or funny, so I turned to the one topic that I know will always bring a smile to my face: my deep love and devotion for my husband, Jason.

Those of you who have the pleasure of knowing Jason in real life know him to be a quiet, gentle and reserved type.  Not one for senseless talking, Jason has the kind of quiet confidence and wisdom that is rarely seen in men his age.  I fell in love with him the minute I met him twelve years ago, and even though it took many years for our romance to flourish, I have never in my life met another man who so thoroughly intrigues, inspires, and enraptures me.

In October, we will be celebrating our "seventh" anniversary of falling love. This may not sound that impressive to those of you who have been married/dating forever, but- for us- this is the day that the world itself began to have meaning, and we have never been the same for it.

So, I'm dedicating tonight's post to him, and am taking on the formidable task of highlighting my seven favourite things about him.  This isn't easy, since there are thousands of things about him that I love. But, after thinking about it for hours, I can safely say that these are my top (at least for tonight...I'm sure I'll think of fifty more than should be on there by tomorrow).

7- The way he gets sappy and sentimental at cheesy romantic commercials, songs and films. 

It's true. My husband's a suck.  And the cheesier, the better.  Whether it be a Hallmark commercial or an 80s hair ballad, the sweet and sentimental things always compel him to reach out, grab my hand, look into my eyes and tell me that he loves me.

6- The way he has an analogy for everything, and needs to explain everything three or four different ways (even when you understood it the first time). 

Jason is smart. Really smart. Like freaky, broke the IQ test kind of smart. And he LOVES to talk about smart things with people. And when he does, he uses wild and crazy analogies to make sure that you understand his complex mind. Of course, these analogies are usually more complicated than the actual topic...but that's what makes them awesome.

5- The way he believes that being a gentleman is more important than being heard, so he never interrupts a person speaking unless he absolutely has to. 

Jason belongs to an old breed of man that is practically extinct in today's society. For him, the rules of social etiquette are as important as ever, and- unless absolutely necessary- he will not interrupt a person who is speaking just to be 'heard'.  In fact, Jason doesn't feel the need to be 'heard' at all, and will not speak unless he feels that he has something valuable to contribute to the conversation. This is why, while he doesn't talk often, you should always listen when he does.

4- The value which he places on loyalty and friendship. 

Jason's 'best' friends easily count in the double digits. He is extremely well liked because he treats those he cares about with loyalty and respect.  He has lost very few friends over the twelve years that I've known him, and these loses we're almost always of his choosing.  Most of his friends have been there for over ten years and I suspect that, when he is 80, his circle will be largely unchanged. This says a lot about how he treats people.

3- The way he never reserves love and affection from his wife or child.  

I must get two dozen text messages a day telling me how much he loves me and Sammie. Seriously, my husband makes sure that I know that I'm adored. He makes me feel good about being me, and that was a feeling I never knew before him.

2- His utter and complete self-awareness and self-assuredness.

Despite his reserved and quiet demeanour, there's a lot more to Jason than meets the eye.  He's actually not quiet at all- he just picks his times.  He's funny as hell, and has a snappy comeback for almost everything.  He is 'his own person'- for better or for worse.  Whether it be wearing bunny ears for an entire semester on a dare, or going to Blues on Whyte in his PJs and ordering milk so he could eat his cereal, Jason beats to his own drum and doesn't give a damn what other people think of him.  He is who he is, genuinely likes who is, and doesn't need any further validation than that. This is the trait that most fascinated me about him when we first met and it continues to boggle my mind on a daily basis. I have never in my life met a person who is as secure and comfortable in their own skin, and it's a damn sexy trait.

1- The way he puts his marriage and his family first, no matter what. 

This is pretty self-explanatory, but a trait that is far too rare in today's relationships. I never have to doubt that if I need him, whether he be in a meeting, on a camping trip or just watching the game with his buddies, he will drop everything to be there to help me.  I like to think that I do the same for him.  the trick to making this dynamic work is to never abuse the power- to remember that it is always an 'emergency' card to be played only when necessary.  But where Jason trumps me unequivocally is that he never- ever- makes me feel guilty for it.  And that's damn admirable.

So there you have it. My Top Seven on August 7th. This post may not mean a whole lot to anyone but me, but boy it's nice to take a few minutes and just be thankful for what you have and for those you are lucky enough to share it with.

What I have is a big comfy bed. Whom I share it with is the man of my dreams.

And on that note, goodnight all! :)

Day 6: The Bittersweetness of Long Weekends

Well, that was a great weekend. We had a blast on our staycation and definitely appreciated the hours of quiet that only an evening of childlessness can bring.  But, now we’re home and its back to the every day grind!

This week is a short week. That’s always bittersweet for me.  The problem is that, as nice as long weekends are, they don’t actually reduce your amount of work, just the amount of time you have to get it all done by.  Ultimately, no matter how you slice the pie, the facts remain the same- long weekends generally result in compensating for lost work hours by pulling some overtime on the remaining work days.

Now, as a work from home mom, this isn’t always that big a deal. I’ve got a pretty flexible schedule anyway and I’m accustomed to the late night hours that come along with self-employment.  The ‘real’ pain in the ass is when a huge amount of the actual work you need to do depends on other establishments being open for business. So all the activities that usually get smushed into Monday daytime hours (which is a surprising amount) now have to get smushed into Tuesday…which is also grocery day, which is always extra special fun.

Anyway, the point of this all is to say: I just don’t have time tonight to think up a clever blog post. I’m too busy trying to get caught up so that I don’t drown myself in work this week.  Sorry to disappoint.

That said, don’t mistake this pseudo-rant for a complaint- I had a fabulous three day weekend and would do it all over again in a heartbeat. I’m happy to trade off a few stray hours in the evening for the bonus quality time with my family. Truly, I’d have it no other way.

This blog is part of the 2012 Summer Blog Challenge (31 posts in 31 days).  To follow along with my fellow writers, visit their blogs: 

Natasha at Natural Urban Mamas

Meaghan at Magz D Life

April at This Mom's Got Something To Say

Aramelle at One Wheeler's World

Day 5: Reflections of a breastfeeding mom…

This week is World Breastfeeding Week, a celebration of the beauty and power that surrounds a mother nursing her child. It appears to be a pseudo-necessity for all currently breastfeeding moms to write some sort of post in homage to this celebration.  This is my feeble attempt at joining the ‘it’ crowd.

It’s been 36 hours since I last nursed my child. I would call him my baby, because that’s how he feels when he’s cuddled up to my breast and looking lovingly into my eyes, but that would simply be inaccurate.  At 25 months, Sammie is so much more ‘little boy’ now than he is ‘baby’, what with his running, jumping, climbing, throwing and laughing (but not talking though…Silent Sammie does not ‘do’ talking!)

As I prepare for the advent of a second child, I’m reminded of just how far I’ve come in the past two years, as a mother and as a woman.  I’ve never been someone who adapts well to change, and I need a lot of mental preparation before I undertake difficult tasks. Because of this, I know that I have to psychologically prepare myself for the commitment of breastfeeding an infant, which is exponentially more challenging than breastfeeding a toddler.  I know that, in many ways, having done it once already I am more prepared than I was the first time. But at the same time, going at it for the second time seems even more daunting because now I truly do understand what a huge undertaking it can be.  Giving up your body for an indeterminate period of time is unquestionably intimidating.

Over the past two years, I’ve engaged myself in an ongoing inner dialogue, documenting within my mind the things that I would have told “Pregnant, Mom-To-Be Zita” to better prepare her for the upcoming challenges of parenthood.  Now, it feels like I need to pull out this script and remember that, while I do have experience being a ‘mom’, the experience a second time round will be extremely different.  So, tonight I’m going to remind myself of the top five things I need to know when it comes to being a breastfeeding mom. I hope that, seven or so months from now, I’ll be able to give myself some much guidance during my times of need.

1- Breastfeeding has never come naturally to me. And that’s ok.

I’m just not one of those moms who has the knack for this.  Breastfeeding, while no longer ‘painful’ has never been enjoyable. At best, it is tolerable, but is generally relatively uncomfortable. This does not make me ‘less’ of a mom. It also doesn’t make me ‘less’ of a woman. It simply makes me a person who has always needed her own body space.

2- No matter how much I try to fight it, the baby will have a say over their feeding style. Frequency, amount, and even duration are only mildly within my control.  This is also ok.

I can go into this with a firm goal in mind. I can tell myself that “this time” I will definitely not nurse past a year. Or, I can be overly zealous and commit myself to lactating well into child’s first year of University. Regardless, my “goals” will always be guidelines. The baby will have their own say on how long they want to breastfeed for. Ultimately, the best case scenario is for us to lay off the ‘goals’ until we’ve gotten to know each other a little bit and are able to come up with some plans together.

3- The politics of breastfeeding can be completely and utterly overwhelming. Proceed with caution.

This is pretty self-explanatory.  Beware of those who are more interested in the “political statement” you are making than in giving you support in feeding your child. These are not your friends. Anyone who shames your decision on how to feed your child should be kept at arms length at all times. 

4- When it comes to breastfeeding, the path of least resistance is almost always the best path.

Some battles aren’t worth fighting. If my baby doesn’t want to eat while covered, I’ll find another way to be discreet. If my baby insists on nursing every hour on the hour for three months, I’ll find a way to sleep at the same time.  If my baby insists on nursing upside down, invest in a seriously comfortable Lazy-Boy. The point is: I’ll figure out what works, and I can’t beat myself up over it. Life’s too short to over complicate things.

5- This too shall pass.

Eventually, I will get my body back to myself. Breastfeeding will not last forever. And then I will miss the quiet bond that I shared with my child. And yes, the hard moments are unquestionably hard, and the challenge sometimes seems insurmountable, the good moments far outweigh the bad. So I should always remember my “happy thought” and cling to it- this will get me through some pretty dark and ugly times: “The baby in my arms is a miracle, and my body’s ability to grow and nurture it is a blessing.”

And, just in case I need the extra reminder:

6- Even when it doesn’t feel like it, I’m doing a great job with my kids. Loving them will always be the most important and impactful thing I can do. Everything else is semantics.

Keep it up, Momma. You’re going to be okay. I promise.

With Love,
From Yourself. 

This blog is part of the 2012 Summer Blog Challenge (31 posts in 31 days).  To follow along with my fellow writers, visit their blogs: 

Natasha at Natural Urban Mamas

Meaghan at Magz D Life

April at This Mom's Got Something To Say

Aramelle at One Wheeler's World

Day 4: Things We’ve Learnt While On Staycation

Just when I fool myself into thinking that I know everything, life hands me a few huge reminders that I am- contrary to my own popular belief- pretty damn unaware. 

We’ve been on our staycation for seven hours. Here are seven things we’ve learnt so far:

1- Electric storms are infinitely cooler when observed, poolside from the 26^th floor Penthouse.

2- Renting two new releases in your hotel room costs approximately me 34.00+tax.  Renting all the porn you can possibly watch in a 24 hour period costs approximately 34.00+tax.  Spending twenty minutes with my husband laughing about the kind of people who come to hotels to watch unlimited porn titles such as “Ranks and Skanks”, “Tosh Hole” and “Mommies Gone Bad”= priceless.

3- The Blue Pear restaurant is unquestionably one of the finest dining establishments in our city.  From the exquisite five-course meal, all the way down to the exceptional customer service, the entire evening was flawless and well worth every penny spent.  If you haven’t had the pleasure of dining here, we strongly recommend it.

4- Fat Franks at Canadian Tire Westpoint runs out of all the good smokies by 3pm.  Bastards.

5- Replacing a flat tire on a long weekend is significantly more difficult than one would anticipate.

6- No matter how many afterschool specials and safety commercials we were exposed to in our youth, some 20-something hot shot moron must always prove his manliness by diving into 0.6m of water directly in front of the NO DIVING sign. These idiots somehow never die, despite their best intentions.

7- The City of Edmonton has a LOT of work to do when it comes to “revitalizing” the downtown core with the new arena.  Here, the prostitutes start as early as 6pm, and as young as about 14. A very somber reminder that some people in our city are not as fortunate as we are and are spending their weekends very differently.

And just as an added bonus:

8- Mommy misses her baby, but she’s holding up way better than she thought she would.  Daddy is proud.

See y’all tomorrow!

This blog is part of the 2012 Summer Blog Challenge (31 posts in 31 days).  To follow along with my fellow writers, visit their blogs: 

Natasha at Natural Urban Mamas

Meaghan at Magz D Life

April at This Mom's Got Something To Say

Aramelle at One Wheeler's World

DAY 3: It’s so fluffy I’m gonna DIE!!!!

(Clip from "Despicable Me")

I’ll admit, after yesterday’s rather intense emotional purge, I’m in serious need of a fluffy post. Hell, I’m in need a holiday! So, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.  This weekend, for the first time in a long time, my husband and I are retreating away from the responsibilities of every day life and doing some reconnecting with ourselves and with each other.

Without the kiddo.

Wow. That’s a big step.

In 25 months, I’ve never gone more than 12 hours without my baby beside me.  While he has spent nights with his Mamelie (my mom), these were always when we were home (upstairs) and ready to get him as/if needed.

But this weekend, we’re throwing sanity caution to the wind, and we’re doing something we’ve been terrified of putting off doing for two years…

We are trusting that we are finally ready to acknowledge that our toddler doesn’t “need” us the way he used to.

It’s a bittersweet realization.  He eats grown up food, sleeps in his own bed, builds lego towers taller than his head, picks out his own movies and can climb the entire jungle gym completely unassisted.

Amazingly enough, somewhere amidst the craziness of life, we’ve parented ourselves out of the twenty-four hour a day, seven day a week, never-ending, constantly demanding job of raising a ‘baby’. 

Our son is perfectly able to go without us. He’s not a baby any longer.

And to borrow a phrase from Martha, “it’s a good thing.”

Now, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t kind of freaking out.  I’m prone to doing that. So let’s be honest, I’m not jumping on any planes and making my way to Mexico just yet.

Big boy steps for him sometimes equal baby steps for mom.

So we’re going away….all the way downtown. 

For 48 hours. 

I know. We're wild like that. 

We’ll be staying at the Sutton Place Hotel and doing our best to take in some of the best that Edmonton has to offer.

We’ve booked our reservations at one of our City’s finest local fine-dining establishments, The Blue Pear, will be taking in the City Centre Farmers Market, hitting up Heritage Days and maybe even catching up on some much needed sleep.

And through it all, I will miss my Sammie Bear.

And I will ask myself a million times “I wonder how he’s doing?”, and “How will he be able to go a whole weekend without me?”

And while I’m asking myself these questions, I’ll know deep down inside that what I’m really asking is “how am I doing?” and “how will I ever be able to go without him?”…

Man, Growing up is hard to do. 

Wish me luck. :)

This blog is part of the 2012 Summer Blog Challenge (31 posts in 31 days).  To follow along with my fellow writers, visit their blogs: 

Natasha at Natural Urban Mamas

Meaghan at Magz D Life

April at This Mom's Got Something To Say

Aramelle at One Wheeler's World

Day 2: Light Switch

“Why do you do it to yourself?”

“Haven’t you had enough yet?”

“Maybe it’s just not meant to be…maybe it’s time to let go…”

“If God wanted it to happen, He would have made it happen.”

“It’s hurting us to watch you suffer. Doesn’t that matter to you?”

“This is why you should wait before telling people…”

“Why can’t you just be grateful for what you have?”

This is just a short list. I’m sure that if I took the time to really think about it, I could come up with at least a dozen more of these ridiculous, hurtful phrases that have been casually tossed my way by my nearest and dearest friends and family members.

The intention is always genuine. The desire is never to wound. But, nonetheless, the words cut through you like a knife, and the underlying message is clear:

“We think it’s time for you to give up trying to have a baby.”

As those of you who know me are already aware, I suffer from a specific type of infertility medically referred to as Habitual Abortion and commonly known as Recurrent Pregnancy Loss (RPL).  Defined as “the occurrence of three or more pregnancies that end in miscarriage of the fetus, usually before 20 weeks of gestation”, RPL affects approximately 1% of couples attempting to conceive. Many couples with RPL are able to conceive without issue. However, due a variety of factors, these couples have great difficulty carrying a baby to term.

In my case, RPL has accounted for 11 confirmed pregnancies with one birth to date: my son, Sammie’s.

And Jason and I are the lucky ones.

Not only do we have a beautiful baby boy to hold in our arms every night, but we also know what’s wrong with me.  The root of my ‘illness’ can be traced back over fifteen years, and while that’s a topic for another post, I’ve never had any questions as to ‘why’ I was infertile.  In fact, the real surprise was finding out that I could get pregnant to begin with (rather easily in fact), let alone carry a viable fetus (almost) to term.

While many couples with RPL can trace their issues back to homornal, chromosomal or physiological issues, it usually takes months (if not years) of (often painful) testing for them to get the answers that they so desperately need.  And, even after these countless invasive procedures, more than 50% of couples are unsuccessful in identifying the cause for their condition.  They are left with nothing but questions and pain, and no hope for answers and peace.

As an INTJ, I would lose my mind if I didn’t have answers, and I can’t imagine what it would be like to be in that position.  This would probably be my absolute worst nightmare.

But, despite being one of the ‘lucky ones’, I can tell you one thing: Infertility sucks.

A lot.

So much more than what I can adequately describe in a blog post.

So today, I’m going to stick to one topic. It might be the most important one. At least it is for me.

Today, we’re going to talk about light switches and how I don’t have one.

Whether they be connected to a low-energy, high efficiency super-bulb or the awful 80s style fluorescent ceiling lights, switches give you the power to turn your lights on or off. Some crazy ones, called dimmers, even have mechanisms to control the amount of light you get - but that’s more advanced than our purposes today.

Integral to helping you control the amount of light in your world, light switches are a grossly underestimated household necessity.

Sadly, humans don’t have them. Or at least I don’t. At all.

I just don’t have the ability to turn myself on or off at the drop of a hat. I’m the kind of person who takes a really long time to process things, and for whom emotions are often felt in overwhelming floods.  This is part of why I avoid them. I don’t do well with ‘feelings’, whether they be good or bad.

So when I’m faced with questions like the ones above, I often get so overwhelmed by anger, hurt, guilt and shame that I don’t have answers for them right away. I clam up, mumble something like “it’s hard to explain” and change the topic. Then I go home feeling ashamed and alone.

But…usually way too late at night…an inner dialogue plays itself out with all the things I wanted to say, but didn’t. And I kick myself every time for not having the presence of mind to answer in the moment.

So, for all those who have asked in the past and all those who will ask in the future, here are my answers…as succinctly as I can sum them up.

“Why do you do it to yourself?”

Honestly, sometimes I don’t know. But the desire to be a parent is something that is so deeply ingrained in my soul that I can’t imagine my life without it.  Sadly, my desire to have children isn’t directly linked to my RPL and the diagnosis didn’t make my desire disappear. Like I said, I don’t come with a light switch. It’s not something I can just “turn off” to make room for the next project. 

Let's also be very clear about one thing here: I did not "do" infertility to myself. This was not a choice. It is a medical condition which I struggle with every day. Please stop blaming me for things that are beyond my control. 

“Haven’t you had enough yet?”

YES. I have had enough miscarriages.

My body, heart and soul had enough with the first pregnancy loss. It doesn’t get easier. I have grieved with every lost child, from those lost within the first few hours to the one I lost at 17 weeks.

I assure you that I have had enough grief and heartache to last me a lifetime.

The problem is that I don’t feel that I’ve had enough babies. Everything inside me tells me that I’m just not done yet. That there’s one more still to come. This is the same force that pushed me to keep trying for four years and eventually led to my son and to his namesake:

Trusting this inner voice that compelled me through the darkest of times led me to greatest miracle I have ever lived. Now, it calls me again and I have no choice but to trust it. I can’t explain it beyond that.

“Maybe it’s just not meant to be…maybe it’s time to let go…”

See above. 

Also, maybe it’s time for you to let go of the imaginary vote you feel you have over my uterus.

“If God wanted it, He would have made it happen.”

Also known as: “Maybe God doesn’t want you to have children…”

Seriously, if ever you’ve used this line, smack yourself upside the head. Hard. Now do it again for good measure.

With the sole exception of my very best friend who used it in the context of a deep philosophical discussion about fertility, the Bible and the role of barrenness in faith, there is never an appropriate time to pull the “God made you infertile” card.

Seriously, there are only two ways to go here. 

If the person is a non-believer, it will make you sound preachy, condescending and- quite frankly- cruel. It will also beget the inevitable discussion of why an all-loving, all-powerful, all-knowing God would create pain and suffering, and unless you are a skilled Apologist and have studied this question, I wouldn’t go there.

As for the believers, let me ask you this: Do you really think the thought hasn’t crossed their mind?  Trust me, they’ve already struggled with this question more than you can possibly imagine.

Whether God is calling someone to parenthood is between that person and God. I’d strongly recommend staying out of it. God doesn’t need a mediator. 

“It’s hurting us to watch you suffer. Doesn’t that matter to you?” and “This is why you should wait before telling people…”

Alright, so I can’t begin to tell you how often I’ve gotten this, or some version of it, and it is one of the hardest to hear.

I know that the natural immediate reaction is to say that the asker is an insufferably selfish ass that needs to shove their head into the nearest toilet.

Or at least that’s my first reaction.

But…then I remember this: Infertility affects more than just my husband and I.

The truth is that my family and friends have grieved every loss beside me. 

They have dreamt of babies in my arms, envisioned nurseries, and brainstormed names. 

They have held their breath while we waited for results and have held my head as we cried on their shoulders.

Some have even cleaned the blood off their floor and held my hand as I watched my child, and my dreams, disappear into a toilet bowl. 

It’s so easy to forget that I am not alone in this; that I am not the only one affected. Sometimes I even forget how much it affects my husband.

Yes- even though this sounds like the most douche-baggy thing to say in the world- the truth is that there is a lot more truth to it than what you hear at first. 

So my answer, after years of deliberation is this:

I know that it hurts you. I am so sorry for that. I truly am.  And if you would like me to protect you from this hurt as much as I can, I am prepared to do that. I am lucky enough to be surrounded by many supportive people who are able to help me carry this burden.  If it is too much for you, it is ok for you to step away.

But I need you to understand that trying to do this alone is impossible. I need to feel like I can share my joys and my pains, not only in infertility, but also in life. I need to feel like I am not ‘broken’ and that I don’t need to hide. I need to feel like there is no shame in my condition, and that I am still a woman.

When I hide my pregnancies, I put myself in a position where I have no one to turn to in my moments of grief. I also put myself in a position where no one understands why I am suddenly upset, removed or in need of some solitary time.  I become bombarded by questions that I am not ready to answer. I am forced into the position of only ever being able to say “I miscarried” and never “I’m pregnant.”

I can’t let my life be run by fear and I can’t let my condition define me. And for that reason, I can not and will not hide my infertility from the world. But I will try my best to protect you from it, if that is what you need from me.

“Why can’t you just be grateful for what you have?”

I am grateful.

I live a life that is full of love, laughter and joy. I have a husband that I have loved since the moment I met him and who is the sun around which my world turns. I have friends who accept me for who I am, for better and for worse, and who inspire me to be a better person.  I have a family that I deeply admire and that supports me unconditionally. I have a miracle son who is my daily reminder of the existence of God.

I have a beautiful life. The desire for another child doesn’t negate this gratitude and appreciation for the wonderful things that I already have.

We do not assume that perfectly healthy mothers who choose to have more than one child love their lives or their children any less for it. We don’t assume that they must be “unhappy” with what they have or “ungrateful” for their blessings.

I was “happy” when I met Jason.  But I became happier when we fell in love, and happier still when we were married.

I was “fulfilled” by our marriage, but the addition of Sammie into our family brought a fulfillment that neither of us could have anticipated.

I am “grateful” for my son and would never change or replace him. And if we are so fortunate as to add another child into our family, my gratitude will be deeper still for I will not only be grateful for my beautiful children, but also for the bond that they will get to share with each other as siblings.

When will you stop trying?

Amazingly, this is one that I’ve only gotten a few times. Ironically, it’s the least offensive to me because I think it’s a perfectly reasonable question and-although it doesn’t have a ‘reasonable’ answer- it does have the simplest one:

When the ‘light’ turns off.

At some point in their lives, most people with chronic infertility or RPL reach the conclusion that they’ve put in as much as they can and have to step away from their dreams of carrying a(nother) child. 

I’ve come very close to this decision before. I come close to this decision every day.

I know that- one day- the light will turn itself off, and I will reach peace.

I can’t tell you whether the light turns off because I am blessed enough to have a second child, or whether it turns off because my heart has reached the understanding that this particular dream is over. All I can tell you is that I know that, one day, this journey will end.

But, I am without a light switch. I don’t have the capacity to just “decide” when the desire will turn into peace and when I will be able to go. Life is a journey without a clear destination, and I have to keep traveling my path, curvy though it may be.

I can tell you that I feel that I am reaching the end, and am finding the strength inside me to relinquish control and to accept that my ‘fate’ and that of my child(ren) is out of my hands.

For now, all I know that I have two hearts beating inside me- mine and my baby’s- and I pray that this will turn into the second child of my dreams. All I can do is have faith and wait.

In the meanwhile, all I ask is this: Be patient with us. We’re going through a lot. We are eternally grateful for your support, friendship and understanding. But please remember that your words are heavy to us, and can feel like weapons if used poorly.  So please be gentle when you talk to us about it, and remember that it is a hard and often uncomfortable topic for us too.

Also, for those of you so inclined, please pray for this baby that we are carrying and hope with us that our journey is reaching its happy ending.

Baby Dulock #11: Due March 2013. Heartbeat identified on July 18^th, beating at 128 Beats Per Minute.  

This blog is part of the 2012 Summer Blog Challenge (31 posts in 31 days).  To follow along with my fellow writers, visit their blogs: 

Natasha at Natural Urban Mamas

Meaghan at Magz D Life

April at This Mom's Got Something To Say

Aramelle at One Wheeler's World

For the LOVE of it

When I was a teenager, I wanted to be a writer and an opera singer. When I was in my early twenties, I wanted to be a writer and a lawyer. By the time I finished University, I wanted to be a writer and a theologian. In my late twenties, I wanted to be a writer and a business woman. Now- at 31- I feel like I have it all…except that I still want to be a writer...

I don’t even care what I write about, or even if ever I get ever read by anyone. It is the simple act of putting pen finger to paper keypad that fascinates me, inspires me, and drives me. As an introvert, writing is how I process the world, emotionally and intellectually. It is how I make sense of the craziness in my life.

As such, I’m about to embark on a adventure for the second summer in a row.  Today marks the beginning of the Summer Blog Challenge.

31 posts. 31 days.

Sound relatively easy, right?

I promise you it isn’t.

In fact, it was one of the biggest challenges I gave myself last year. Finding the time, every day for a month, to sit down- alone with my computer- and dream up something even remotely interesting to write about was a definite feat.

But it was an amazing experience, and was well worth the time and occasional frustration.  I learned a lot about my writing habits, and about my likes, dislikes and loves when it comes to creative energy. I also loved reading the daily musings of my friends who participated in the challenge with me. I loved following their trains of thought, even when they sometimes derailed. Ultimately, it was a lot of fun. 

So I’ve committed myself to doing it again this year.

But I’m doing it entirely differently this time.

I’ve come a long way since last year.  I’ve taken a major step away from my professional life, and a major step towards becoming a better “me”.  I have refocused my energy and attention on projects that ignite my passion and bring me joy, and have stepped away from projects that drained me of my energy (and in some cases, of my will to live).

While I certainly can’t say that I’m any less busy, I somehow feel much calmer in my life. I spend what free time I have with the people I want to see, and engaging in conversations and activities that want to engage in.

I’ve ended some friendship- the vast majority with people whom I had known for less than a year, but with a few people that I had known seemingly forever and have simply found that we’ve lost all commonality. It’s been painful, but I’m learning that letting go is a part of life.  I am very blessed to be surrounded by amazing people, and- to put it bluntly- my ‘dance card’ is generally full.

At the same time, I am getting to know some ‘new’ people…slowly, but surely…and am excited for the prospect of the new things they can bring to my life.  These new friendships are coming to mean as much to me as many of my old ones and for that I am eternally grateful.

I am learning that I have a choice in how I choose to dispense with my energy.  This has been an extremely freeing revelation.

I know that this all may sound a self-involved.  Maybe it is. But it was a change that I needed to make, for my sake and for that of my family and friends.

Doing all this has required me to take a massive step “away”- mostly from social media, including blogging in general. I've missed it, but definitely needed the break.  And now I am ready to take baby steps back.  Which is where the summer blog challenge comes in.

Last year, I was committed to dedicating as many of my Summer Blog Challenge posts to business and business related topics.  I wanted to build my professional blog, and I do find the topics to be generally interesting.  However, I didn’t find this type of blogging to be fulfilling in the slightest. So this year, I’m taking a different strategy.

This year is all personal, all the time.  I want to reconnect with my mind and figure out what’s making me tick at this stage in my life. I want to go back to that feeling that first inspired me to want to write in the first place.  I want to remember what it was like to write, not for the ‘hell of it’…but rather, for the love of it.

And there will be no holds barred. I’m taking on some topics that have been nagging at me for months, many of which I have been too afraid to write about because of the controversy that might ensue.  At this stage in my life, I just don’t care. I’m writing for me. And that’s all that matters.

I've discovered the "delete comment" button, and I'm not afraid to use it. 

So for those who want to join me…welcome to my ramblings. I don’t promise poetry, but I do promise that I will do my best to be authentic, and maybe even occasionally interesting.

And on that note, I gotta dream up a topic for my first ‘real’ post. In my bed. Under the covers. While I sleep. 

See y’all tomorrow.