Gratitude before Mother's Day

It's been 4 years since we decided to start TTC.  I thought this milestone would be the perfect occasion to reflect back on our journey and to express my deep gratitude for all the family members, friends, co-workers, support group members, medical care professionals, blog readers, forum participants, acquaintances, and even complete strangers that have supported us along the way.  

I am humbled by the amount of love and compassion that so many of you have shown us.  If you are a friend of mine who has listened to our story, read my blog, sent me cards or messages to let me know when you are thinking of me, prayed for me, or cared and thought about me, even if I never knew it, thank you.

Thank you to all those who have checked in on me, given me space when I needed it, considered my feelings in social situations, privately notified me before announcing your own pregnancies, asked how you can help, listened to me, and hugged me.

Thank you to my DH who has been through the trenches with me, supported me, fought for our love, and done everything in his power and good conscience to give me what I want more than anything..... besides him and our love of course.

Although IF has changed me forever and at times has taken over my identity, something else has changed my sense of identity too: the kindness, love, and support of those who have been there for us along the way.  I am so grateful to have so many people in my life who care about me.  I hope you all know who you are, and I hope you know that you make me stronger.  You make my life more full, more complete.  You remind me of the bigger picture and all the small things too, and you help me keep my pain and grief in perspective.  You pull me back out into the world when I get stuck in my own head, and you pick me up and carry me when I can't stand by myself.  

I am sorry for the times I have not been the best friend, mother, daughter, granddaughter, niece, cousin, in-law, co-worker, or listener.  I want to be better.  I want to remember that all those roles which I play and the relationships I have are important parts of my identity too.  I promise to try.  I promise to myself that someday I will work through this suffering and come out on the other side and be even better than the person you knew before this struggle took over me.  I refuse to be stuck here forever.  Someday, whether it's because I move on to motherhood or accept a new child-free life, I will put this behind me.  I'm sure it will always be part of me, but I won't let it consume me forever.  I'll grow from it, learn from it, and be stronger because of it.

And to those of you who will still be there ready and waiting for me when that day finally comes, thank you.

I Guess Kids are Part of Every Stage of Life

I travelled safely home from Dallas earlier this week.  I was so excited to see B & the furkids when I got home!  B had cleaned the entire apartment for me so I'd have a nice clean home to return to.  He even changed the sheets the day I got home so I'd have fresh bedding to sleep in!  It's good to count blessings like these so you can lean on them when times get tough.

On the flight home I sat next to a grandmother from a smaller city up north.  She was very nice and very talkative.  Unfortunately for me, she had just been down to Tulsa to stay with her son and his family.  His family with three children plus a newborn baby.  She was there for two and a half weeks.  Oh boy.  You'd think that since I wasn't sitting next to a young woman in her twenties or thirties I'd be saved from the dreaded topic of babies coming up for once.

She went on and on about how much fun she had babysitting while she sent her son and his wife out for the evening because "they really needed it."  She complained about what a poor mother her daughter-in-law is because she can't stay off her iPhone long enough to help get the older kids ready for school in the morning.

This poor, wonderful, happy little grandmother had no clue that I've been reeling from the pain of infertility lately.  She couldn't have known that I had just cancelled an IVF cycle less than two weeks ago, which in my mind equals my best chance at a baby this year.  And you know what, she wouldn't have had a clue about any of it from her conversation with me either.

Why not?  Because I was genuinely interested in what she had to say and was sincerely pleased to have met her and listened to what she was talking about.  I wasn't just being polite.  It's crazy to me that after everything I have gone through and am continuing to go through, when push comes to shove, I can still be just as interested in the topic of children, motherhood, and families as I ever was.

Kids and family life are just such a strong part of who I am, that I guess I can compartmentalize my own pain over infertility from my personal interest in a stranger's family life.  Weird.

It gives me hope though.  It demonstrates that infertility doesn't define me (as a good friend recently reminded me), and so if I am ever able to move beyond it (whether that be through a child or acceptance of what cannot be), I will still be the same person inside that I always was.  Someone who loves kids and wants to talk about baby names and nursery decor and child development & learning, and discipline (that's a big one!).

So to the little grandma out there, thank you for sharing your happiness and stories with me.  You gave me more than good company to make the flight go by faster.  You showed me that there is light not only at the end of the tunnel, but also in the midst of the darkness.  I just have to keep my eyes open so I can see it.

Why don't academics have kids?

Or more specifically, why don't academic librarians have kids?  This question probably sounds odd coming from me, given yesterday's post about all the pregnant women at these library conferences, but I've noticed a trend recently: very few academic librarians seem to have kids.


Why is that?  Most of the ones I know have been married for several years, and are creeping further and further into their thirties, so it can't be that they aren't ready.  Is it that they can't?  Are they all struggling with infertility like me?  Has this profession attracted a certain type of infertile woman who is than able to find support and camaraderie by being surrounded by others just like her? 


Or are they, like many women with high levels of education pushing back their family goals in lieu of their career goals (whether they'd like to or not)?  I would buy that if it was junior faculty members we were talking about, who had to concentrate on their doctoral program, dissertation & defense, and are now researching, publishing, teaching and serving their way toward tenure... but we're not talking about them.  Most of the academic librarians I know already have the job they want.  Or at least they have their foot in the door and are at a place where they plan to be for a long time before they can climb higher toward their ultimate goal. 


Maybe they don't want kids?  Maybe I'm a freak for being in a profession (or at least was in a profession and admire still hang out with my former colleagues) where I'm the only one who  likes children.  Maybe the rest of them found their niche in a place who accepts their pension for a childless life.  Maybe they just want to work and travel and have fun with their husbands and friends.


I asked a couple of them that I knew from my grad school days down here at this conference.  They argued with a few examples of academic librarians they knew that DID have kids...but one was older with school age children, the other had children in college, and the rest were men.  In the examples of the two women, I have know idea where they were in their careers when they got pregnant and had their children.  And the men certainly don't count.  Pregnancy and child rearing is NOT the same for the fathers, in any profession.  This is a conversation about motherhood and work.


I don't know, but it doesn't change how I feel.  I still want to be a mother more than anything.  I'd give up my career to be a mother in a heartbeat (though the way things are going, its looking more and more like I'll have to work until I die just to be able to afford to conceive my child!).


But it's just something I've noticed, because as we all know by know, all I ever think about is babies, and I often look for infertility in others where there is really none to see.  It is a weird place that my mind goes when I'm doing this, but I think it's human nature to compare ourselves to others and look for similar traits that we find in ourselves in others too.

Where did the last year of my life go?

It's kind of crazy, but I just caught myself wondering last night, where the last year of my life went?  I was thinking about how I started a new job about this time last year (I suppose having to submit my first annual self-evaluation last week contributed to this train of thought).  I was thinking about all the training I received for that new position.  I thought about all the things I accomplished those first few months and how it doesn't seem like any of those things were very long ago.


I think it's because I had so much going on in my personal life that I haven't had time to reflect on my work life and all the positive things I have been doing.  For example, last month, B and I were all like, "Wow, this time last year, we were just starting to seek out infertility doctors to assess our situation." Or this month it was, "This time last year B gave his first sample and we started done the long road of infertility testing."  And now I'm already thinking that a year ago next month we got the first results back that we may have MIF (male infertility factor).  And it just goes on from there.


A very dear friend just sent me THE MOST BEAUTIFUL email.  She told me she had read the blog and empathized for me and said all kinds of beautiful, inspiring, empowering things about me.  But the thing that stood out to me the most was that infertility does not define who I am.

At first, I was outraged.  I was like, "Yes it does! Don't dismiss what I am going through! Don't take this away from me too!"  It kind of took me back to the place that my MIL brought me, where I felt like those around me were in denial that B and I have a diagnosed physiological condition.


And when I look at all the energy and emotions I've been pouring into this blog in the few short days since I created it, it seems obvious how much infertility consumes me during every waking day.  This post itself demonstrates how much the past year of my life has been devoted to solving and/or coping with this affliction.  So I hope my readers can understand why at first I reacted so negatively to the comment my friend made in her email.


But now that I've had a day or two to think about it, I know that she was write.  I always knew she was writing it from a good place with the best of intentions, but at the time, I thought she was just sorely misguided.  Now I have come to realize that she was right.  Not only was she right, she told me something that I needed to hear at exactly the right time.  Before I let my feelings and even this blog where I am collecting those feelings  take over my identity, I needed to hear that there is so much more to me than the label of infertility.


Infertility has become a part of who I am (and after getting some great responses to various posts from former infertiles I am learning that it will probably always be a part of me).  But it is not all of who I am.  I am still the over-educated girl who loves to travel, is obsessed with all things British, adores horses and now her dogs (I always used to be a cat person but B is allergic).  I care about the environment and social justice for all.  I enjoy photography, scrapbooking, and now making photobooks.  I am a loyal friend, a sensitive daughter, and protective sister.  I have a very weird and unpredictable sense of humor and a curious soul. And now, people are starting to tell me again that I am a good writer too :)


I need to remember to let some of these other qualities shine through too.  I need to sprinkle them into this blog, and even more importantly, not neglect my first blog queenofshibas.blogspot.com because it was originally designed to showcase these interests.


All that said, I am glad I have this blog so there is a safe space to channel and collect the issues that consume and overwhelm me most of the time right now.  By getting them all out of my head and sharing them here, I don't have to carry them with me all the time.  I can concentrate on other things the rest of the time, and come back to them in a safe environment when and where I am ready for them.  AND, sharing them with those close to me in this way protects me from having to talk about them when I am not prepared to do so, because people don't have to ask me how I'm doing with everything anymore.  They can just read for themselves.