I just want to shoot out a real quick post and although I'm not regularly posting anymore, I hope to and this is also something big..... They found a donor. On this week of all weeks where I felt the sadness and agony coming back after my sister's crap this past weekend, I got a call yesterday from the clinic. As soon as I saw the area code I knew..I knew something was coming. They told me she is Puerto Rican (I'm mixed and half PRican),ca-ca-curly hair! which they had told me was extremely difficult to find (woot woot), on the Dean's list in Grad school, and beautiful. She's 30 which is older than they prefer but they told me her levels were excellent. They are waiting for the last of her tests to come back and for my Dr., who they explained is super picky, to look at her herself. I wanted to cry and scream because even though this isn't 100 % certain, it's hope and I haven't had that, at least a strong feeling of that in a while. After the call I went into Kay's office and we screamed and hugged like fools who'd won the lotto. I feel like God and my dad, and everyone else who is out there and up there looking down, is just giving me a break and telling me to hold on. Am I scared shitless? Yes, yes I am. For a million different reasons I'm scared but I'm also very thankful to have the opportunity to try.
I'm going to my OA meeting this morning and though I feel very comforted by this Saturday morning group, I don't think I'm going to share this with anyone. I shared it with Kay and I think I'm good with just that.
Saturday, November 21, 2015
Sunday, November 15, 2015
No where to go
It's been a long time since I've written but I have nowhere to go with this so here I am. It's not that I haven't wanted to written but the truth of the matter is I haven't felt the emotional need...until today.
Today would have been my dad's 80th birthday. It's been a little over two years since he's passed and that may seem like a good bit of time, it's like it has gone in slow motion as we have been in and out of court regarding the will and all of the property and the problems with the property. The problems are a story for another day.
All the siblings got together today to eat tacos (my dad's favorite) and to stop by the cemetery which is local. It all was fine. On our way out of there someone got the idea to go get frozen yogurt and off we went and thank God this was also very local. My younger sister was driving with me as the passenger, the rest of the clan in the back. In the course of conversation, I mentioned I had been in Jersey yesterday and she inquired what I was doing in Jersey. When I said, nothing important as I was at an OA meeting and really who the fuck cares..she says, I think I know why you were there..I'm going to...I"m trying. Now, truth be told, I kinda knew she was trying which bothered me but that's life. I say to her, "No, I don't go to Jersey and if that's where you're going you may want to check their stats, and if you'd told me, I would have helped you...I can help you if you want". Now, right after I say that, I feel something. Something I've felt only once before on the day I was diagnosed with cancer and was driving home. It was just a little different and I realize now it was shock...and I wanted to cry but not soft cry, I wanted to really cry. You want to know why? Because I was never allowed to talk about my experience with fertility treatment. Had I been able to she would have known that I wasn't going to Jersey anymore and hadn't been for almost 3 years. The fact that she can talk about it, feels free to talk about it, like because it's her it's okay now, is the ass kicker. I broke my own heart with my offering to help her because that is my way. I'm no fucking saint and that's for damn fucking straight, but if you know me just a little you know that any time someone needs help I'm there...I may resent it but I show up, physically or emotionally and most of the time both.
So in that moment, after I say that to her that I can help her, I add that she should check the stats, that I"m not in Jersey and am in NYC and as soon as all this info is out I regret it. I know that I will not be there for her throughout her pregnancy for any reason. I think I have had enough. I want to howl at the moon. And we pull into my mom's driveway and in my head I'm organizing the fastest way to get the fuck out of there. I grab my two dogs, my laundry, my fro yo (of course) and haul ass out. And I cry the short ride home and don't know what else to do with myself and I think of this and this little spot which I'm pretty sure my older sister had at one point discovered and here I am.
I have to stop letting things hurt me so much but the truth is, how do you stop the only family you have from hurting you over and over and over because it's all you have. So you put up with it because otherwise, it's just you and two dogs and one or two close friends who have their own lives. But I'm so tired of it all really but there's nowhere to run from it. On this day..where I started off crying for the people of Paris, for my dad, and finally I end it crying for myself like a big fucking baby... but you feel what you feel and I feel pain and there's nowhere to go with it because it's all right here. I may have coated over all the pain I felt when my sister's abandoned me and they did, no doubt about it through all of those fertility treatments, the surgery and the point where I thought life had given me so much pain and had so forgotten me that I wanted to die. And though I don't feel some of that any more, I don't feel that crazy bordering on wanting to die pain, the pain from my family remains. I buried it deep but it's still right there and I hate it, I hate them a little I really do.
Today would have been my dad's 80th birthday. It's been a little over two years since he's passed and that may seem like a good bit of time, it's like it has gone in slow motion as we have been in and out of court regarding the will and all of the property and the problems with the property. The problems are a story for another day.
All the siblings got together today to eat tacos (my dad's favorite) and to stop by the cemetery which is local. It all was fine. On our way out of there someone got the idea to go get frozen yogurt and off we went and thank God this was also very local. My younger sister was driving with me as the passenger, the rest of the clan in the back. In the course of conversation, I mentioned I had been in Jersey yesterday and she inquired what I was doing in Jersey. When I said, nothing important as I was at an OA meeting and really who the fuck cares..she says, I think I know why you were there..I'm going to...I"m trying. Now, truth be told, I kinda knew she was trying which bothered me but that's life. I say to her, "No, I don't go to Jersey and if that's where you're going you may want to check their stats, and if you'd told me, I would have helped you...I can help you if you want". Now, right after I say that, I feel something. Something I've felt only once before on the day I was diagnosed with cancer and was driving home. It was just a little different and I realize now it was shock...and I wanted to cry but not soft cry, I wanted to really cry. You want to know why? Because I was never allowed to talk about my experience with fertility treatment. Had I been able to she would have known that I wasn't going to Jersey anymore and hadn't been for almost 3 years. The fact that she can talk about it, feels free to talk about it, like because it's her it's okay now, is the ass kicker. I broke my own heart with my offering to help her because that is my way. I'm no fucking saint and that's for damn fucking straight, but if you know me just a little you know that any time someone needs help I'm there...I may resent it but I show up, physically or emotionally and most of the time both.
So in that moment, after I say that to her that I can help her, I add that she should check the stats, that I"m not in Jersey and am in NYC and as soon as all this info is out I regret it. I know that I will not be there for her throughout her pregnancy for any reason. I think I have had enough. I want to howl at the moon. And we pull into my mom's driveway and in my head I'm organizing the fastest way to get the fuck out of there. I grab my two dogs, my laundry, my fro yo (of course) and haul ass out. And I cry the short ride home and don't know what else to do with myself and I think of this and this little spot which I'm pretty sure my older sister had at one point discovered and here I am.
I have to stop letting things hurt me so much but the truth is, how do you stop the only family you have from hurting you over and over and over because it's all you have. So you put up with it because otherwise, it's just you and two dogs and one or two close friends who have their own lives. But I'm so tired of it all really but there's nowhere to run from it. On this day..where I started off crying for the people of Paris, for my dad, and finally I end it crying for myself like a big fucking baby... but you feel what you feel and I feel pain and there's nowhere to go with it because it's all right here. I may have coated over all the pain I felt when my sister's abandoned me and they did, no doubt about it through all of those fertility treatments, the surgery and the point where I thought life had given me so much pain and had so forgotten me that I wanted to die. And though I don't feel some of that any more, I don't feel that crazy bordering on wanting to die pain, the pain from my family remains. I buried it deep but it's still right there and I hate it, I hate them a little I really do.
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