Things to say

Things a pregnant woman might like to hear even if she is fairly certain it's a lie:

"No, let me get that for you." (as said by a random parent)

"You look like you do 'being pregnant' well." (as said by the nine-fingered [female] security guard at school)

"Wow, you look like you've gained hardly any weight! I can't believe those pants still fit you so well." (as said by Em)

"From the back, you hardly look pregnant, you just look nice." (as said by Andrew)

Things a pregnant woman doesn't want to hear, even if she is fairly certain it's the truth:

"Are you having twins? Is that why you're so big?" (as said by a school counselor)

"Are you sure you have four weeks left? You look huge." (as said by the office secretary)

"Oh, look, you're waddling!" (as said by a science teacher, the other office secretary, every other math teacher in the department, and several students and students' parents)

Hee. Why yes, apparently I am measuring big, per the doctor today. But, um, have you met me? I am 6'1". And not a delicate flower 6'1". I was a ten pound baby, y'all. Little Man? The sperms what made him were from a tall person too. A betting person would put him at "above average size".

In other news:

• I don't just nest, I renovate. The kitchen is going well. We had an awesome meeting with the woman who's going to be installing our IKEA cabs and there's a few issues to address, but I think we can do that. And the moldy leak might be okay. And the engineering problem that caused the sinking second floor is taken care of. So, you know, no big deal and no stress...
  
• IKEA did call and say my kitchen order was available for pickup. So I showed up at the store and said, "Do I LOOK like I would order a kitchen for pickup?" They fixed it.
  
• My sister arrives the day after tomorrow. Her car seat arrived today. I can't wait.
  
• I got my hair cut. I have my first new hairstyle since the Mistake of a Boy Shag disaster from 2002.
  

Peace out, ya'll. Next time I update, it'll be my spring break. W00t!

And you mean...

Him: So... how'd your doc's appointment go, babe?

Me: Oh, it was good. It was good.

Set your date yet?

Next time, next appointment.

How about your blood tests?

Oh! Yeah, so you remember how tired I've been? And I started taking the iron supplements? Even with the supplements and my prenatals, I had an iron level of 34.2. Apparently, 34 is the borderline of anemic. So, you know, no wonder I was so tired!

So maybe that would explain your attitude!

And I... what?

Um... nothing?

My attitude? What...?

I'll just be down here doing the laundry!

Baby Crazy

Juno: loved it, loved it, loved it.

But not, I think, why everyone else loved it. Yes, Ellen Page? Total cutie, and I would have totall wanted to be her friend in high school but would have been way to shy to think that I could be amusing enough to hang with her. And I love JK Simmons and Allison Janney.

But what grabbed me was Jennifer Garner and Justin Bateman as the would-be adoptive parents.

Shocker, I know. I hope you were sitting down on that one.

There was a review that I had read that talked about them and the words from the review that stuck with me--I can't even remember the context now, but they had called them "immature". But I never got that feeling. And I can't tell you how relieved I am about that.

The childless couple--the baby-crazy would-be mama--is really easy to parody, to have a pre-made image in your head about what they are going to be like. For instance, Tina Fey's new movie, Baby Mama. Which might make me throw up a little in my mouth. But my friends and family have done it, too. One asked me last summer, "So, are you, like, totally baby crazy, now?" And I've never thought of myself that way. And yet, I still answered yes. Not because I'm baby crazy--I wasn't buying baby clothes in preparation (and, oddly enough, I'm still not) or yplanning baby things or even trying on imaginary baby names--but just because I wanted one, constantly. Like a constant soundtrack in a movie, that desire was just always there. But I couldn't explain that at the time, in the noisy bar we were in, how that is, but it isn't, baby crazy.

The Jennifer Garner character reminded me of that. Of that really delicate balance you try to maintain, that game face that's almost always on, that doesn't deny your desire but also can't really let the full impact of it show. But how it sneaks out, at times. And how that's mistaken for blindness/baby crazy/immaturity. I was well impressed with the movie, how the sort of complexity of her desire wasn't simplified to snark or slapstick or pathos.

I've been thinking about it a lot because recently I've been sort of backhandedly(really, not so backhandedly) called "crazy" for the path we took to expand our family and I can't shake it. I can't shake how much it hurt to have months of agonizing about decisions, each new decision a new path of "Should we do this?" soul searching between me and Andrew, reduced to "crazy". I guess I'd not be surprised by that comment from a stranger who hadn't ever talked to me, but that's not the case here. I feel like a movie had more empathy for how unfriendly conception can be, and how personal the process is, than a friend.

In the end, I guess, it's a mindframe no one understand unless they are open to it. Blessed are they who try.

This, from a counselor.

Are you having twins, is that why you're so huge?

False Promises.

Well-meaning people, people who love me, people I love, have a common refrain that really, truly rubs me the wrong way.

It will happen.

My mom, I love her, but that's her refrain when there's another failed cycle. And we've had our differences about how to communicate lately, but finally last month I just had to stop her.

I know this will work out in the end, she said.

And she meant well. But.

No, mom, I said, you don't know it. You hope it. That's the thing. It may not happen.

It's hard to explain to anyone who hasn't dangled at that precipice, that panicky realization that it really truly may not happen. Yeah, we're using IUI right now, and that may happen, and there are other options, the next step is IVF--but that's expensive/risky/just may not happen. Adoption (oh, boy, is THAT a topic for a future Oh The Things People Say!) is expensive/intensive/just may not happen. And while the fact that Nothing In Life Is Guaranteed is a truism, no one ever thinks it applies to them, not about having children. Until suddenly it does. Some ART-folks maintain their optimism, and my own optimism rises and falls (usually in concert with the levels of clomid in my system, odd, huh?), but personally as I keep going, pragmatism and realism (some might say pessimism) creeps in.

It Might Not Happen. We might not get lucky. That's not me inviting pity (much) or even self pity (well, a little). That's me acknowledging a truth that really honestly kind of sucks, but it's a truth, along the lines of "Actually, no, I never WILL be a supermodel" and "I really wasn't meant to be an athlete". We'll still keep going, try again next month, and probably the month after that, et cetera and so forth, because I want this more than I've ever wanted anything and I will keep trying until we've exhausted ourselves. But that doesn't mean it will happen.

And I can't help at getting irritated at people (usually women) who got pregnant by, of all things, having sex, telling me that I should be patient, it'll happen.

There are two things so very very wrong with that statement. First of all: Look, we've been seeing doctors on and off for almost four years now, and steadily, monthly, bimonthly, almost weekly and sometimes biweekly, for over a year. This is just a drop in the bucket to some ART couples, I know, but seriously, you don't think I know about patience by now? If I could have hurried things up, don't you think I would have by now? I don't have a choice about patience.

Second, you don't know it'll happen. Last I checked, your ESP didn't include reading the tea leaves. That's just an empty empty Thing to Say, comforting you far far more than it comforts me. It's all very well and good to say that from the easy place of having had your child/children, but every time you say that, no matter how difficult your own process was, it is a reminder that you are on the other side of a bright shining line that so far I've been denied.

What could you say instead, you ask?

Most likely--and here's the sucky part for you--nothing. Each failed cycle is a little less carefree than the last, you see, so it hits a little harder. Being there and listening is the best possible thing a friend could do when another cycle fails. Or, being there and distracting if I don't want to talk about it.

If you find yourself in that place where the words are on the tip of your tongue, no matter how firmly you believe it will happen or is meant to happen or God whispered in your ear one night or the chicken bones aligned or whatever!, keep it between yourself and your chicken bones. I'm glad--for you--that you feel that way, but that's your faith. I have my reality to deal with.

At least...

I just wanted to start a little service for those who are going through ART (assisted reproductive technology). More specifically, this is for those who know someone else who is going through it.

If you are going through ART know this here and now: otherwise well-meaning, sympathetic and intelligent people will say some dumb-ass shit. Family, friends, coworkers--some may know what you're going through, some may not, depending on how open you are--doesn't matter. They don't mean to, but they will.

And it will hurt. I mean, it may be a small pinprick, or it may be a raw seeping wound, depending on the day, the person saying it, and the clomid levels, but somebody will say something that will bother you. In fact, several somebodies, and they'll all say different things.

The truth is, they have no idea what to say. And the painful truth is, many won't do research on the emotional aspects of how to deal with a friend with fertility problems. And the real truth is, almost none will know how to ask you what you need, nor will they know how to react when you talk about it.

When you find the friends or family who know how to ask you questions frankly yet sympathetically? Who follow your lead when you do or don't want to talk about it? Coat them in gold and chain them in your basement. You won't find many, so hold on to the ones you do. I have three chained up down there right now. It's being able to go downstairs and visit those three that get me through the bonehead shit that other people say. And then I occasionally toss them a treat.

That said, I wanted to start a small recurring feature of They'll Say It, But That Doesn't Mean You Have To Like It. I just want to cover what I've heard and why it sucks, and what some viable alternatives may be.

Today's entry:

"At least you know you can get pregnant!"

You will here this after a miscarriage. Guaranteed. You will hear this after every miscarriage. You will hear this in the down times between miscarriages. You will hear this in the empty times between doctor's appointments--assuming, of oourse, that you've been pregnant at least once, whether you actually gave birth or not. You will hear this while waiting after your last IUI for your beta blood tests. It's often the go-to thing to say for people who want to comfort, and they will say it any time you admit to feeling anything less that optimistic.

And you know what? It's not comforting.

Can everyone who only wants to get pregnant, but doesn't want the baby, can you stand up?

Anyone?

The goal is to stay pregnant. Right? I mean, you'd tell me if I was wrong, wouldn't you? The thing is, every fertility story is different, and so yes, some people have difficulty at the getting pregnant stage, while others have diffiulty at the staying pregnant stage. Some lucky winners (!!!) have difficulty with both. But I'm fairly certain, even without doing clinial research, that it isn't anyone's ultimate goal to just get pregnant, even for the women who have problems getting that far.

And besides, how on earth is that comforting? "At least the one event that no one has control over can happen!"

It's a little like comforting your newly divorced sister by saying, "Well, at least you know you can get through a wedding! Now next time you just need the marriage to stick!"

If you find these words allllmost coming out of your mouth, ever, for the love of all the fluffy kittens in the world, stuff your fist in your mouth before these words come out. Check yourself: does this person you're talking to really want comfort, or do they want a sympathetic ear so they can just not be Susie Fucking Sunshine all the time? If they really want comfort, don't give them false promises (more on those in a future installment!), ask. Ask, ask, ask: "How can I help?" If they want sympathy, try something crazy: just be sympathetic.

And if someone says that to you? I'm sorry, not if, but when? God, I wish I knew. If you had a good response, please let me know, because I'm still searching for one that doesn't make everyone want to stop talking to me altogether.

Next up: Variations on a theme: False promises.