A Tough Week with Tough Choices

 I finally got the paperwork from Allison. I looked at it backwards and forward as I couldn't believe how simplistic it was. It asked you what race you wanted, and then you had to rate that on a scale of 1-3, 1 being very importan and 3 being not important. Then it asked you how important religion was to you but didn't ask you what religion you wanted, same went for ethnicity, then what color hair, eyes, what body frame, height and that was it. I called Allison and she quickly explained that they'll send me profiles of people that fall in between these categories, you pick, take meds to sync up to the donor and then get inseminated....all in one sentence she explained it in sort of a rush. I was upset. I said to Mattie when I hung up with her...just look how quick someone can explain to you how to make one of the most important decisions in your life...bada-bing bada-boom...done. So I checked off all the shit adding my comments on the side because that's how I roll and taped a pic of myself (as requested) on the stupid form and sent it back. I didn't want to harp on it or have it in my posession any longer. I wanted to add to just send me the shit and I'll pick out my own but I can't burn any bridges at this place and just want to hurry up and get this done with and end my relationship with these people already. I added that the person had to have some college and that art was a plus as everyone in my family is artisitc in some way and we can all sing but I'd rather they have the art bit if at all possible. Really, I felt the form said a big fat, We Really Don't Give A Shit What You Pick SOoooo, Just Pick Anybody You Infertile Loser.  You know when you get the feeling that you're done somewhere? That's how I feel. Just do what you can for me here and cut me loose...really just let me go already. I asked Allison the first time we talked if she thought I was grasping at straws because really I wanted to know, and of course she said, "not at all"...no conversation no nothing...yeah yeah, easy answers. fuck. If it wasn't that I'm at the end of all this shit I'd switch to somewhere else. fuck fuck fuck...so tired really of all of this but not tired enough to just quit already. Gotta stay in this fight til I'm completely down on my knees I guess.

I finally gave away all of the baby clothes Diana had given me...I left myself with a tiny corduroy jacket and  a pair of skechers baby shoes...both too cute to give away. That's all I've kept. The books are next and really I could just bag up my whole condo and throw it in the dumpsters...that's how I feel, like I really don't give a shit about anything. I have thrown in the towel almost completely and this next step only holds a glimmer of hope for me. I'm scared of it and I'm scared of the financial repercussions for me after this. I put about $500 on the card this weekend and another $500 this week for car repairs and a trip to the grocery...I had to send a family member another $2300 last week...this ain't monopoly money folks but what do you do? I don't know. Just tired of it all, tired of it but I have to just keep moving.

On the WW front, I'm sticking to it so far these past 4 days...journaling the shit on my WW app. We'll see if I can't hold it...can't refrain from gorging my sadness with food.

I also went online last night and looked up more ethnic donors for sperm just in case I have to pick someone outside of my race...have to spice it up a bit I suppose. Really, I don't care what the kid looks like...just give me healthy and not crazy.

Phone calls

I had my HSG scheduled for this morning. Funny how some things happen. My test was at 9 a.m. in east jabib New Jersey (not a real place btw) so I needed an hour to get there. I set my alarm for 7:30 a.m.....why this would make sense to me I have no idea. So here I am this morning cutting up Tessa's food (It comes in a block, don't ask), and I look at the clock and it says 7:45 a.m. and I think to myself...what the fuck? What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?! was I thinking. I put down her food and water, hightail it to the shower (hello it's not like I'm going somewhere where skipping would even be an option), scrub myself all over, scrub again, rinse, brush the teeth, thank God that I had set out all my clothes, underclothes et cetera the night before, jump in it, throw some makeup on and I'm out of the house at 8a.m. ..shit. I get there with 10 minutes to spare and finally a male attendant calls me in (.....huh) and they explain he's helping as the other chick's not in but will wait outside while anything is going on and come in when he has to shoot the pics...fine. She puts the shit in, it HURTSSSSS like a motherfucker...more pain than I think I can withstand and I lay there whimpering because it's that painful. I turn, I turn the other way, I'm done. She says it all looks clear though there is some scalloping though she doesn't think this is significant in any way. I think, what the fuck is scalloping? I think of roof shingles, clothing hems and potatoes...I don't know what she's talking about but in true Gem stupidity, I don't ask...I can only think of one thing which is getting out of there, taking some advils and relieving the stress and pain...I get my films and I'm out. Okay cool beans. I leave, program my GPS to go to my doctor's office to see how far and figure out it's only 15-20 away and off I go. Drop the shit off, go grocery shopping and I'm home.

I'm putting the stuff away and my cell rings...restricted call...The chick says she's Sandra and so and so gave her my number regarding international adoption. I think to myself, "shit, really". I'm not ready. I'm not ready for this yet, I don't know. She tells me all about the process, explains it's pricey and takes about a year. She has a connection that could save me $10K...I do have to go to Haiti (UGH!!)...I get the information, thank her, call her the wrong name of course because it wouldn't be me if I didn't fuck up your name, and we hang up.

I fall asleep on the couch and wake up 2 hours later. Dr. B calls. She says the top of the uterus looks perfect however the middle appears as if there is some constriction, perhaps the fibroid is pressing on the uterus though she thinks the space is "adequate enough to carry a pregnancy". Fuck, I think, adequate is not perfect....adequate is code for maybe. Okay, where do we go from here. She asks me what I've decided and says she can't remember my choices clearly. Shit, she can't remember...I thought I was special...*sigh*..alas it appears I'm just average. Moving on from my sarcastic thoughts, I tell her I thought we were moving in the direction of donor egg with my uterus. She asks if I've made a wish list. Wish list? She says she has one donor in mind that matches my ethnicity that she's thinking of...hmmm...okay...the rest of the conversation is just basic bullshit...bullshit that still hurts but only because of what we're talking about, not because of how it's delivered. She'll have Allison the person in charge of donors call me. I thank her. I want to cry as all I can do is picture her sitting there pregnant talking to me about using one particular chicks donor eggs that she has in mind because she is my same race and I wonder if she even knows what race I am. I'm upset obviously but it's not the conversation...it's really just about a million different things, a million different difficult and painful reasons.

 I don't care what race I get which is something that someone else might care about.. but me, not so much. So it's not matchy matchy...don't care. I need the chick to have gone to college, have not done drugs, not have been a total slut or loser or unable to concentrate or given her mother hell. I want her to be smart, gentle, and sweet as I'm not fully convinced that these attributes are all gathered through nurture rather than nature. I want to know why she's giving up her eggs for 8 thousand dollars because you couldn't give me a million dollars for one itty bitty one of mine even if they are no good just because there is a possibility that my baby may be going home with you. But if it wasn't for the fact that she didn't think like me, didn't look at her eggs as too precious to give away, I'd have no chance at all. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, and shit. I guess I still haven't fully absorbed the idea of using someone else's eggs. I can't explain it really but I imagine that everyone feels this way, that this decision isn't an easy one for anybody, and that this idea, as sickening as it is, and I'm sorry to say that it is, is easier to digest than the thought of travelling to Haiti to adopt someone else's baby. That sentence, as horrible as it is in content and probably in grammar, is too true...painful, selfish, perhaps egomaniacal but true. It's how I feel, right or wrong. And I can't help but wonder, am I just grasping at straws here. Is this some bone they throw you when you want something that's never going to happen? I don't know..I don't know. I'm scared....I'm scared it's over..and I'm scared it won't work.

I wait for Allison's phone call and we'll see what that brings. Can't wait.

In my head

I hesitate to write sometimes as I feel I'm just repeating myself and at times if I do go back and read an entry I realize that, damn Gem, you are one obsessive chick. But then I remind myself that I'm writing for me and fuck it if it's a repeat of thoughts...it's what I'm thinking and I never said I was sane or that I wouldn't bore people, including myself, to death.

I have a friend on facebook that I made because we happen to be using the same sperm donor. She's perfectly normal or at least it seems like she is; a rarity really. We talk back and forth though there are periods of silence but it's so nice to be able to talk to someone who is also in the fight. It's her partner trying to have a baby so it's not exactly the same fight and I get the impression that she'd be okay with no baby but she feels the frustration of the dreaded negative, the dreaded 2 week wait, and the disappointment of it all. She mentioned today that at times she had to stop reading the CCB (Calif. Cryo bank) site posts as the rotation of people are no longer the ones we started with and blah blah blah. I so hear that. When I go to the RE's office I no longer recognize anyone I started with. Not a one. I feel like I'm the stranger there amongst all those new people, walking around with that confident air of those who have yet to experience the crushing blow of endless negative pregnancy tests. I want to tell them, settle in for the fight of your life people as it's a fucking jungle but it's not my business and I can't help but wonder if there was someone looking at me in the beginning when I'd walk out with a cheese wiz grin on my face each and every time, encouraged by my doctor's optimism; maybe they were looking at me thinking, you idiot, that shit if far from happening. What a joke. I must have looked like a gullible fool but there it is. And really, in retrospect, they were some of my happiest days in the past several years; days of hope so no regrets. I don't walk out of the examination rooms that way any more. Isn't that funny? I used to walk out, each and every time, with a shit eating grin and I can't tell you when the last time it was that I didn't walk out of there hysterically crying. Even when it's an okay visit I walk out crying as I know, I really do know what the chances of success are. They're not good.

I read that statistically, using donor eggs, the chance is something like 43% regardless of age, though this stat goes down if the eggs are frozen. Scary I think. In my imagination, my fantasy, I have enough donor eggs produced for at least 3 tries..I do the first 2 and then Z tries the last one...that's the fantasy of how it would work though truthfully, even in my head  that doesn't work. Yes, yes, yes, I'm looking at my glass as definitely half empty. I would like to see it as half full but I'm too scared to hope anymore. I'm not sure if it would actually hurt more if I had some hope but at this point why risk it? This amount of pain is unbearable already and even a tiny grain of sand more might tip me so I'll stay on this pessimistic side. So unlike me it's scary.

Nothing more than feelings...

I'm struggling again and I can't really blame it on PMS as my period was over 5 days ago. It's this sadness man that has settled and been sitting on my chest. The kind that makes it difficult to breathe, difficult to swallow really; it's just a lump there and it takes everything I have to make it through every minute of my day. I want to hide from life; hide from all the babies, the pregnant ladies, the everything and anything related to kids, to motherhood to fatherhood to any type of hood that I don't belong to. Just that quiet desperation again killing me.

 I go for my HSG test (again) for the 3rd time this Monday and I want to hurry up and just get it over with, get to the last chapter of the book I guess you could say; just want to know how this all ends. I'm scared too though, as there is a very big part of me that doesn't want to know...just doesn't want to know. It's going to kill me I feel. I tell Kay this, and I tell Diana this, and I tell Z and Mattie this but they don't seem to understand what I mean. I think this ending might kill me if not literally than emotionally. It's just too sad for me, too sad, too sad, too painful. And really how much can one person endure in one life?

Someone havnig a bad day wrote on facebook today (a site that is no longer the place I once loved to visit), how God never gives you more than you can endure and I think,.. I don't know about that. I once read, and I think it's a valid point, that if that were true there would be nobody in psych wards as aren't too many people in wards those that couldn't handle what they were given? I try not to think of the never having a baby thing as it's too scary and for me, it's one of those, "I don't think I can handle situations". I can go on but it would be a bitter person moving forward...I feel I'm turning into that already, into a bitter person, something I've always dreaded becoming and in fact, Diana and I, when we worked together used to talk about people who went around life with a frown; we called them "People who sucked on lemons"..we still call them this..childish but whateva. Shit, who knew. I am trying to keep the faith...trying trying trying to just trust in God, that he's got my back but there's a very big part of me that has some doubts...fucked up but there it is. I keep praying, keep hoping there is someone hearing me, hearing my desperate prayers.

My life is half over already, more than half probably, considering my history (ex-smoker, obese, with a history of cancer), and I wonder, could I get through the rest with just me? Could I get through the rest just for me, just for little ol' me? There is a woman at work, Jecca, that I've mentioned before. She's 56 or there abouts and getting ready to retire this year. She's been married twice...the first time for a short period and the second to someone about 20 some odd years older who died several years back...no children...she has one sister, also no children and that's it. She's spent some Thanksgivings at a shelter feeding the homeless for lack of somewhere to go on Thanksgiving...fucked up huh? Last year her sister arranged for her a place to go. She spends her nights drinking wine in her huge house and smoking cigarettes. I was tight with her at one time, even invited her to spend Thanksgiving with my family when she had nowhere but she's dicked me a few times and I no longer trust her...that's the one difference between her and I, I have tight friends and I don't dick them, thank God...but I digress... My point is, I don't want that life...that life with no real family of my own...nobody to really love....nobody to cook for, to take care of, to come home to even if it's only on holidays, nobody to make your house a home for. If you came to my home, you would see that it looks like a home. I always imagined that I would be bringing babies here, feeding children here and Diane especially always comments about how cute I've made the place and how warm and inviting it is. It's a very modest home but I've done what I can to make it comfy ( it was a dump when I bought it which is how I was able to afford it at the time). Anyhow, that's what I want. I want children to cook for, to love, to help with their homework, to tuck in, to wash their little clothes and take care of them...that's what I want. I want to be old and have them visit once in a while and have them ask me to bake cookies for them, or whatever becomes their favorite thing that I cook for them. The bottom line is, I want to be a mom. What do you do when that's what you want for your life and it doesn't happen? How do you keep putting one foot in front of the other? I don't know.

Adoption

Just wanted to write a little blurb on adoption. I have a sort of connection to adopt from Haiti though I hadn't seen the chick in a while. Today she came into my office and we had an opportunity to talk. The process is difficult and it would entail a trip to Haiti...something I really don't want to do. I love Haitian people, I actually speak some Creole which always shocks people as it's not a typical language to learn but it's always intrigued me... I know that it's very dangerous there, very poor, and very dangerous, and though I won't explain how I know so much about it, suffice is to say that I do, even though I've never been there nor am I Haitian. I always wanted to visit until I learned so much about it. It is now a place that even thinking about it scares the shit out of me. We'll see what happens. I gave her some of my personal information and she gave me hers and we'll see where this leads. The one positive is that I meet all of Haiti's requirements for adoption; they ask that you be over 35, you can be single (woohoo!!), and it seems that although not absolutely necessary, they prefer that you don't have other children. This is not an absolute for me, and I'm unsure of the cost but at least I have a start to some info. I haven't given up on the egg donor thing and as a matter of fact, go next Monday to have my second HSG..fun fun. Just wanted to update.

On the food front:

I have been hesitant to write about dieting, food, compulsive overeating, et cetera, on here because it is such a sensitive subject for me and I find that too often, people have simple answers for a complicated problem. By the same token, I have to deal with my food issues so here it is. Kay has a bowl of candy in her office and she won't get rid of it. It tortures me and I can hardly resist it. It's like leaving a glass of vodka available at any time when you have a drinker in the office but alas, I know this is not Kay's problem, it's mine. I find myself eating to assuage my stress and anxiety. I have been obsessing over Asshole and I thought I had washed the thoughts of him out of my head but apparently I haven't. I gotta get over it. I have to move on with my life and I know I will. I'm not sure which came first the chicken or the egg; if it's that thinking of him is giving me the anxiety or it's the anxiety making me think of him....crazy. And though I find that I am having trouble controlling my food, I did begin to journal my food again and I also weighed myself (not as bad as I had thought). I am loosely following the WW program though I'm not going to meetings..will start these, God willing, on Sunday. Will continue with OA but if nobody shows up tomorrow...that's it...I'm done. I'm not doing this shit again where I go and nobody else is there..that's bullshit.

Anyhow, that's it. I'm tired and frustrated tonight and want to drink and smoke and can't write. That's where I am in this life. Just taking one step at a time trying not to walk off that proverbial bridge and just realize that this too shall pass, and that there is always a better day on the horizon. I have to believe this even when I don't believe it. Gotta keep on keeping on (though I hate that saying it fits).

Trying

I spent most of the day indoors today doing nothing really but watching crime tv....watched until I couldn't take it anymore and then showered went to my mother's, argued a bit with her over shit she wants me to do that I don't want to, read the paper, and went out with the siblings to Walmart and then for a late dinner at a "Chili's" type place. I'm trying, trying to regroup, to feel better, to just feel normal but I can't seem to make my way out of the house without bumping into a pregnant person or a child or to just hear the screaming/crying of a child and I myself find myself wanting to scream and cry and throw my own sort of tantrum at the insanity and hopelessness I feel in my heart and in my whole body really. I don't want to see kid's toys, kid's clothes, ads for baby shit, anything related to what I dream about and of course, it's impossible. It's literally life and I can't seem to find a comfortable place in it. Staying indoors isn't helping my mental state...it makes me feel more alone and more isolated than I've been feeling lately if that's possible. Just feeling like I don't belong and feeling so resentful. I really am and though I'm trying not to, trying not to be mad at God and the universe, the Fates or what have you, I am mad, I'm bitter, and I hate the feeling, and I can't help but wonder if there really is something controlling destiny...maybe this is all just me begging nobody for anything. I don't usually share those feeling because I know they're terrible but sometimes they creep into my thoughts...that it's just luck of the draw what happens and what doesn't. I don't know. I don't like to think about that.
In the meantime, I'm trying to focus once again on my weight and on just being healthier; making healthier choices...something that I at least have some semblance of control over. I lost control of the eating sometimes...part of the whole problem in a nutshell I suppose. I continue going to OA though I was pissed last week when nobody else showed though I did most of the meeting on the phone until the only caller hung up...I just picked up my shit and hightailed. it. I'm trying. Next week I'm starting WW again for the billionth time.
That's it. My life in a nutshell for today. Just trying to live it and not fall apart, not self destruct which is easier said than done. A part of me wants to eat what I want, drink like a fish and smoke like a chimney..I won't. At least not today.

Ebb and Flow of a Slow regroup

I have periods of time where I'm feeling fine and periods that I feel I'm back down on my knees asking for some mercy. I have a lot to be thankful for. They are laying off left and right where I work and at this point I'm safe. Safe and grateful as I know there won't be another job coming along in some time that comes with this salary...not with a degree in something related to human services anyway. Asshole is getting laid off. Am I happy? Satisfied? Smug? None of the above. I feel a deep sadness at the things I am lacking in my life compared to what I have. I guess it all evens out as some of us have these huge luscious families and others have these huge fucked up careers...very rarely do we get both at least not where I come from. I'm grateful and I hate to say but...buttttttt...Today I was minding my business, doing some grocery shopping as Diana and Z are coming over. I'm on line and I hear someone say, "Gemma? Gemma So-and-So?" I turn around and search the person's face. That this happens to me a lot is an understatement as I live in a small area and I've been around for a while and most people have either met me or heard of me and rarely do I ever remember their names...fucked up but true and really, on a regular basis, I meet an average of about 10 people so... Anyhow, I remembered her...grade school. And there she is pretty as a picture with her red hair and her baby with flaming red hair and it was nice to see her but she asked the dreaded.."Kids"? ..."No, no kids, I wish" I say, and then the awkward.."You can have mine" comment/joke/what the fuck do I respond to that. In my head I think, ..really? Can I really have yours? Because I might just take you up on it. But of course I say the polite, "Oh is that your little girl?.. She's lovely. Too cute really". And I do all I can to bag all my shit and haul ass before I start crying. I make it to my car, feel the tears well and manage to pull it all together and finish my crazy lunch break itinerary of running from the grocery, to the bank, to the post office, to the gas station, and finally find my way back to the office. God is good and puts my neighbor, who also went to graduate school with me and interned with me in the office and I bring her in and we shoot the shit til just about time for me to hightail it out of there and I'm home to vacuum and wash out the wine glasses, pack up the groceries and wait for Diana and Z.
I haven't written in a bit as really, what was there to say? I'm waiting as we speak for my period and there's a part of me that doesn't want it...doesn't want it to come. I need to just get on with my life and I can't seem to manage that feeling like I'm constantly in limbo with this fertility thing. I'm just exhausted by it, emotionally and even physically exhausted by it,  and I secretly think it's just not going to happen but the thought of that is so painful, so agonizingly painful that I can't fully allow it to play out in my head. You know what I mean? I can't think outside of the simpleness of just that statement "maybe it won't happen"...outside of that I need to shut out any other thought on the topic. So for now...I wait. As soon as I get it I have to call the lab to schedule an HSG test and then call my doctor to tell her when it's scheduled...as I write it my body goes numb..that's how much I hate the thought...the thought that I'm getting closer and closer to perhaps the biggest disappointment or the biggest joy in my life. Fuck.