Making plans

** was supposed to post this on Saturday but was too busy**

My head is starting to hurt – that must mean I’m thinking again.  Or, it could mean that I drank too much last night.  I went out with a girlfriend who is getting divorced – unwillingly I might add, but she’s making progress -  and together with another (single) friend – we had a few cocktails.   We were an odd group, really.  There was MiniMartha (my friend), CareerGirl (her friend) and BoozyBuddhist (that’s me) talking about trying to move forward in our lives. MiniMartha is fragile, but determined to hang on to her dignity as she struggles to let go of a marriage she doesn’t really want to let go of.  They don’t have kids, they never wanted any.  She can’t imagine kissing another man after 16 years. Her husband told her one day that he wanted a divorce, that he was done, really done and moved out.  I know there’s two sides to the story  but I can relate to her on the level of one who never thought she’d be where she was.  CareerGirl is looking for love online and like a lot of single girls I know is having a hard time finding what they want.  And me BoozyBuddhist is moving forward to motherhood and the more she begins to compile her lists, the more excited/terrified she is.  ONE MORE DELICIOUS LEMON DROP MARTINI PLEASE AND KEEP ‘EM COMING! What an odd trio.  We did have a bit of fun though.  But unlike the girls in Sex and the City, we’re not getting any!

On the home front, we’re looking at flight dates and checking out accommodations and counting our pennies, trying to imagine what this is going to look like without well, knowing.  worrying if we’ll all be home by Christmas and parking and when should we go if we leave after she delivers, we’ll be hit with a huge airline bill, so we’ll just take our chances by going around due date time and waiting and omg what if she’s really late and we’re stuck there for Christmas and who will take care of Juno?  Little stuff like that.

 

JuJu the Destroyer

The evidence:

Before:

what is should look like

What it looks like now:

inside was a pink thing and a tennis ball

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Before:

What it looks like now:

no head, no tail, no arms

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Before:

indestructibe you say?

What it looks like now:

mmm! Delicious rubber!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The rest of the victims:

Mmm, no more squeaky in here!

Harvey and Roger, Rabbits with No Ears

this WAS a flying duck with stiff braided rope

Your honour, no court in the land would convict me:

JuJu the Destroyer

 

Out of the closet

I finally told my district leaders that I was adopting – well specifically that the time is drawing close.  I knew that I would tell them soon, but after a particularly touching experience by my district leader, I felt it was the time.  Both of them inspire me so much in different ways, that I just wanted to ask them for their support, guidance and daimoku.

I was so nervous about telling them before because of well, I didn’t want them to be  disappointed or feeling pity for me if it fell through.  I wanted to come home with a child first so I wouldn’t have to face telling yet two more people of an undesirable outcome.  The first time I went through IVF, I remember getting the phone call that we were unsuccessful.  We were devastated, in shock at the enormity of what that meant.  A neighbour across the hall, knowing our timeline, called us and was WONDERING what the result was.  I told him it wasn’t a good time to call and he still didn’t catch on.  I repeated myself.  It felt a little like trying to communicate through a tin can with string, words were echoing through my head.  Of course, a week later, he told us that his wife was pregnant.  My sunny disposition was no longer so fucking sunny.

This time I realize that either way, I will be okay.  Knowing full well I can’t control the outcome (which I certainly didn’t believe when I went through IVF cause if you do/eat/say/think all the right things you will WIN!) is a bit of relief in a way.  I still think I have an attachment to being a mother, but for the first time I’ve considered that being a mother is not the only path to happiness.  It still feels like my application for motherhood just keeps getting rejected and this time I’ve had the interviews, gone before a panel (oh, boy, have I!) and now I just have to WAIT for the final approval.  Trust.  Faith.  I am enough.  Don’t bake the banana bread and make annoying phone calls and send gifts to seal the deal.  What will be will be.  Insert stupid platitude here.

I’ve been following  A&A’s blog and they actually flew across the country to then find out that the birthmother changed her mind.  They’re recommitted to waiting for their child and waiting for a new match.  I felt so sad for them but impressed as their resilience. Their faith has sustained them and gives them comfort.  What else is faith for?   I find it interesting that their agency doesn’t make matches until the final trimester of pregnancy.  I had never heard of that before. It certainly makes decision day come a lot faster.

I will continue to pray for the best outcome for us, the expectant mother and the baby.  I want us all to find our way.

In the meanwhile, our 8th anniversary is this Saturday.  8 years, and we’ve gained weight, grey hair and perspective.  it is an achievement, for a while there, I wasn’t sure we could make it.  Last year, there was a lot of penny pinching and bad moods, this year we’re going to splurge a bit.  Why the hell not?  We are enough.

 

Missing Mum

I finally got to see my mum on the weekend.  Apparently, the warning they posted on the door doesn’t really apply.  The CDC said it was just a cold, the offending parties are in isolation and my mum’s floor was not affected.  Strange, I hadn’t seen her in a week due to my transcribing work and she didn’t really seem to notice that much.  I stepped off the elevator and I hear, “Hey!”.  That’s how she always greets me.  Sigh.  I missed her terribly, but she was her usual self.  She didn’t seem to mind that they had cancelled the Hallowe’en party either.   Even in her state, she recognizes the indignity of it all.  I guess that’s a blessing in a way.  I remember when she first went in the home and she would call me about 12 times a day weeping and asking me to take her home and then the nurses would call me saying she had hit someone or she was in a horrible mood.  Between her and the failed IVFs, I was feeling  (and looking) like a punching bag.

I had gone shopping for her earlier (something we used to do together) and she approved the new clothes.  Her pants don’t last very long.  They tend to use the hottest water there and it kills the elastic.  And now she needs more socks.  Mum likes to remove her clothes from her room and they end up elsewhere.  I guess I could buy her clothes at a thrift store instead of Sears, but that is something that we also used to do together.  The very thought of combing through racks at the Sally Ann (where I just might find some of her old stuff) is just too much.  Not to mention time consuming.  And musty.  When I was a child, she had only 5 dresses in her closet.  I want her to have new things all the time.

It was a lovely sunshiney day (so welcome after the torrential wind and rain the night before) so we went to our usual Starbucks and hubby and Juno came by.   My little family.  We watched the young people parade up and down Robson Street in various outfits.  She needs her hair done, too much grey; I had to cancel her appointment due the flu scare.  Her whiskers need trimming.  I used to think that caring for my mum was some sort of sad consolation prize for not having my own child.  Now, it’s just part of our lives.  We have long life in our family, so barring any sudden illness, she’s likely to be around for at least another 10 years.  And then I’ll be shaving my chin, too.

Caring for an infant will keep me pretty busy, but I don’t have to worry about missing visits with mum.  She has a new sense of detachment from real time. I envy her that right now.

 

Hallowe’eny JuJu

Alas, was busy today and didn’t make it over to the pet store for a cheap costume so just dressed her up in dumb stuff.

Hallowe'eny bandana

Cowboy Hat

towel head

Underwear head - - ooh scary!

I had a wig to put on her but she kept attacking it, so I had to make do with these ones while she chewed on various stuffed toys.

 

 

Cooking up something

Busy day ahead of me, trying to cook up a couple of easy dishes to take to my girlfriend’s house today, walk the dog.  Then walk her dog (our dogs don’t hang so well together, hers is nearly blind and mine will be into everything) and hang out with her, this will be her first day on her own.  I’ve gotten all my typing work done (yay 20 hrs!) and can relax for the weekend.  Was out the other day and noticed an apartment building all decorated for Hallowe’en.  You know, it’s always been a dream of mine to have a house and decorate it for all the kids in the neighbourhood.  Complete with headstones and creepy music.   Hubby could hide in the bushes and scare the crap out of them and the friendly witch (me) would give them candy.  Right now I’m considering getting a costume for the dog.  Omigod, I finally cracked.

By the way, I got a callback yesterday.  Here’s hoping I get another pleasant phonecall today.

 

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All sorts of news

http://www.resolve.org/site/DocServer/06_Family_and_Friends.pdf?docID=5702

I’ve read about 20 blogs through ICLW.  Found this link on a comment on Getting There’s blog.  The article from Resolve addresses the fallout of infertility for family and friends.  I hadn’t read it before.  I skimmed through it quickly (I lived it so looking back was a bit discomforting).  I snorted a lot and head bobbed.    A very good article.  Mmm, I wonder why fertility clinics don’t hand it out, it is after all a place where you spend a great deal of time….. oh, I know why – cause it’s depressing!  I’m am so sorry,  take this article and can you go out the back door please?  Please come again with better eggs/sperm!

Also, another article on RELAXING.  I’m sure fertility clinics sponsored this study.  So helpful.  That’s why new clinics are starting up with acupuncture and wellness programs.  Ka-ching!  Okay, I’m not saying they don’t work, cause they do. I just kinda tweaked on the headline of just relax.  It brought out the bitter betty in me.

In other news, what’s with this H1N1 eh?  I went to pick up my mum on Tuesday and take her to see my friend’s spanking new baby and there was a notice on the door about not coming in due to flu like symptoms.  So I called the nurse on my cell for an update.  There was no definitive news but he said it would be best not to come in until they knew more and as I was on my way to the maternity ward, I felt it would be best to not go in.

And then for the first time, I considered getting the vaccine.  Cause I thought it’s either I don’t see my mum or I don’t see my friend and her baby for the next 3 months.  I don’t want to be responsible for making my friend sick (not sure if she knows a young mother in Abbotsford died or not and I’m not telling her).  Her and her entire family are germophobes.  Her mother showed up at the hospital wearing an ozone thing around her neck.  It was the size of a pager. Now I did wear gloves and a mask once when my mum’s had a Norwalk virus outbreak, but I still went to see her when she was sick to check on her.  Nobody was gonna keep me from my momma.  But, come on, I didn’t see any doctors running around in hazmat suits with yellow caution tape on the hospital doors.

Crap, I do not want to get this vaccine.  I put enough toxins in my body.   Now, I’m not anti-vaccine at all, but when it comes to flu shots, I’ve never felt the urgent need to get one.  My mum lives in residential care, so they all get one anyway.  Their vaccinations don’t start until next week.   I’ve gone in there before during the regular flu/Norwalk virus outbreaks, and with the regular precautions like washing my hands, I’ve never gotten the flu.  I’ve had bad colds in my life, but never the flu.  I don’t know why, I don’t wish to provoke the flu gods, but the upside of being perpetually underemployed is that I don’t come into contact with a lot of hacking, sneezing people who leave their germs on the phones or doorknobs.  Though, recently this year, I’ve gone back to wearing contacts (cause I broke my glasses) so my fingers are in my eyes more than usual. Oh, man.  I’m getting glasses.

I just called the home and it’s confirmed that it’s not the H1N1, and the flu is not on their floor anyway.  Frankly, it could just be a common cold, but they are always cautious.  They’re just keeping the residents inside and just making visitors use antiseptic hand gel.

See, there is always something for me to worry about.  Now where is my mask?

 

 

 

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She arrived!

Well, my friend finally had her baby girl this morning, she’s healthy at 5 lbs, 4 oz.  I cried a lot.  My friend asked if I would like to hold her and of course, I just melted and cried some more.  I brought some bubbly, cause it’s not a celebration until there’s delightful Italian prosecco! It rained all night and all morning, but when she was born, the sun shone brightly. I was so happy for her and proud of her.  She is an amazing woman, so full of light and strength.  I just wanted her to be happy and safe.

Hubby came by and the jokes started and he got a peek at the little angel too. We both know from the minute they got pregnant it would be a girl.  I looked at him and knew (as I always do when he comes to see his friends’ new child) that there is a touch of bitterness.  A sadness pulling at the corner of his eyes.  He would have had cigars.  He would have had that undeniable machismo swagger that biological connection gives you (I imagine).  He is so good at putting things behind him, but I could see it.  I could feel it.

I have only dreamed of giving birth myself, I could only offer support and daimoku and wait patiently in the wings.  I tossed and turned all night thinking of her.  I just wanted to be a good friend, a best friend.  I took a few pics, wanted to DO something useful.  I saw the typical images in a maternity ward, walking swollen mothers to be, anxious families waiting, excited chatter, soft moaning, the doula at her feet.  I could watch and be a witness, but never experience this ritual of giving birth.  Mind you, at my age, I should consider myself lucky for not experiencing the agony of a 13 hour labour. Yet I still, damn it, still, feel haunted by the spectre of the old dream.  The one where there are no lawyers, no papers, no social workers, no single young women.  Yes, they did IVF plus bells and whistles as well, but it worked for them the first time.  Like it does for a lot of people.  Her age and her uterus were on her side.    I am careful to remind myself that I am on another path, a different one.  I should not compare.  Had we not signed on for adoption, and chosen to be childless (as were pretty damn close to doing so), would I be further along my path to healing my ole infertile self?  Who knows?

All I know was that just for one moment when I looked down and saw my friend’s face and I looked into the face of her beautiful daughter, I was so happy, so grateful to share in their moment.  Grateful.

Ah, back to business as usual – waiting.