Tuesday, January 20, 2015

the Time is Getting Closer

Maybe the time is coming near that we should start reading Suzy the baby DE book. One of her daycare teachers is pregnant, that might help to convey the notion that babies grow in bellies.
I'm a bit reluctant, and I can think of two reasons
- we haven't told the boys
- how will other people react if she says something

I feel so comfortable now being 'the mom' with no questions asked...

Mhm, maybe I could read it together with Delia and her DE daughter. That is a nice and safe test run, and she has much more experience with talking about it already, they are really open about their DE experience (she got pregnant at 46 after so very many years of trying)

What is definitely coming near is the day Suzy needs a bed that she can climb out of safely by herself (or not at all, but that's only an option at daycare in my opinion)
We are not ready for that, not sure that Suzy will ever go to sleep again, not sure what havoc she will wreak while we sleep...

Sunday, January 18, 2015

On the 15th

On the 15th I had my session with BambiEyes.
Complaining how I didn't want to make a roadmap for 2015 for work. So, said she, why not make a personal roadmap then? What about reconnecting with DP that we discussed before? What was our special date again? 15th? what a coincidence. How quickly could I arrange childcare?

Now, I'm not always up for a challenge. But this was the right one at the right time. Before I had even left the building I had managed to get both my parents on the phone. My parents had just returned from holiday, DP would be late(ish) from sport. I had time to do some shopping, pick Suzy up from daycare and cook dinner for my parents. By the time DP came home the three of them were eating at our table, we had a chat and left for a dinner with just the two of us.
We enjoyed it so much.
I did remember to convey my worry that I didn't want a repeat of 10 years ago (when he left his then family due to having grown apart and in a rut with a small child. Suzy has that age now. We all need it to be different this time. DP  took a moment to realise what I was talking about, and reassured me it was different. He even managed not to say I was a fool for asking) So yay.

Also yay: we booked a city trip for the three of us in three weeks time. Suzy's airfare is only 40€ till her second birthday, so that was a nice guideline and provided the urgency to go. Looking forward to meeting my Dublin blog friends there.

Monday, January 12, 2015

Mama, Purple and Soup

November.
DP and I went out for HB's birthday, and Suzy had her first sleep over at 21 months. She stayed with Delia's family with a 23 month old. It was mostly OK.
The next day Suzy could suddenly say 'mama', and didn't stop doing that.
December.
I read a book about 5 different fishes to Suzy every afternoon and night before bed. Suddenly she started pointing to the purple fish, saying 'purple' - in Dutch she says paa(r)s.
New year.
Dinner at my parents, who always have soup as a starter. She says Sshssoup now.

Also we have the stringing together of words. This Saturday, 6 am. She had had her early morning feed, the only one we still have. I think there is a little less milk every day, and we've started offering a bottle of water if she wants to drink some more. But I had forgotten it upstairs in her room, so when she asked for water I told her so. Suzy came back with a loud and clear 'mama pakken'! (mama grab)
I was too surprised to not listen.



Sunday, January 11, 2015

More friends who need a hug.

It seems people around me are having hard times.
Lily, my friend at work, has a sister. This sister is someone who planned her children 2 years apart, all four of them, and had life work out that way. House, career change, it all fitted. Until she got pregnant with the fifth unplanned. And almost died giving birth to him. They had to do not only an emergency c-section, but also an emergency full hysterectomy. Kept her in ICU for a few days.
And on the office xmas party Lily had two glasses of wine on an empty stomach, and suddenly confided in me that she had marital problems.  Because after 9 years of marriage he still doesn't want children, and at 36 she feels she is running out of time. O dear.
When I tried to arrange to come over for tea and listen to her she said she wasn't free this week, as she wanted to support a friend after 3 years of failed treatments and 3 rounds of  IVF (which is the end of the road in the Dutch healthcare system)
O dear.

Two and a half years ago she introduced herself (and her husband) as not having and not wanting children. I simply accepted that, but half overheard a colleague grilling her about it, and her giving many reasons. (this guy never knows when to shut up, alas)
She did tell me she liked children, and she is great with Suzy.
OMG I just realised I even took her along on my fun-scan at 22 weeks pregnant. She knitted baby socks, a baby vest, matching hats for Suzy and me. And now I'm wondering how much heartbreak went into it...
O dear.

the only things I've managed to offer her so far were my experiences with relationship therapy. Like schedule a time to talk as if it is a meeting; with an end time. And maybe an agenda. (instead of always nagging him and never be heard)

Tuesday, January 6, 2015

found and lost

I promised an update on this post where J told me about his partner disappearing.
His body was found on new year's day...
J called me Monday evening, was crying on the phone, so sad, so so lost. Tried to hug him through the phone best I could.
I offered to go there, although he lives almost at the end of the world, where France is reaching out to England but misses. But it is not known when the body will be released. And there will only be some simple kind of ceremony as the parents want the remains back in their country. (Alas no one seems to have the funds or insurance to pay for that)
Maybe I'll buy a ticket for J to come here instead...

Thursday, January 1, 2015

About me (Infertility in 10 easy steps)

Happy New Year!
This year is the first time I´ve joined Mel´s Creme de la Creme, so I thought I should write an ´about me´ post, because there isn´t one right now. Infertility in 10 easy steps...

Ten years ago I met this guy at work.  He seemed interested in me, and I liked him. I was 32, but too shy to ask him if he was single, instead I asked if he had kids... Yes, he said, two little boys (and my heart sank). of course he asked about me. So I said I wanted kids, loads, but was still looking for a father.

The next months are a bit of a blur (oh, come ON, did I really want a father who would walk away from his kids? Crazy stupid love hormones, let me sleep! Loads of soul searching from his side, relationship therapy and finally his decision to leave his family and move in with me)
The first year flew by, with limited money and no contact between me and the kids, like a weird dream.
The second year was easier for DP as the housing situation changed and we could be together with the kids in his place every other weekend. It was harder for me, with strange kids who didn't know or trust me in this village where I didn't know or trust anyone. Also learning that DP wasn't ready to try for a baby made it that much harder to be positive towards his boys.
The third year in the summer I quit taking the pill, and refused to pack condoms for our holiday to Berlin. DP didn't go on strike, so we started our TTC journey amidst Knut-mania (the baby polar bear raised by hand in Berlin Zoo) Much to his surprise my period followed like clockwork. I was 35, pissed off at his past where his girlfriend got pregnant while on the pill. Twice.
After six months of TTC I went to see my GP, who told me to pick a fertility hospital. I walked around with that referral letter for 6 months, not yet ready to admit defeat.

The fourth year. We had started to look for a house together. Many hospital visits and a fairly quick diagnosis: a timing issue (just half a day off and the sperms would get killed) and running out of eggs quickly. Thanks to this knowledge we managed one natural conception. And a natural miscarriage at 7 weeks. (later we would name this baby Knut)
The fifth year. After the mandatory 3 month wait we had our one shot at IVF, but even with a mega dose of stimulants we had just two eggs visible, and converted to IUI. This chance at twins was only that, BFN. The hospital said they were done treating me, and referred me to a psychologist, BambiEyes. 
With her I could let my Anger out, speak about my Jealousy, learn to feel my pain. I could bring DP along, learning to open the communication channels between us.
I also learned that I wasn't done with treatments, and managed to get a monitored cycle out of the hospital, since I was still getting my periods. Another two eggs were seen, another negative, again twins that never were more than hope. I stopped looking for a house, because do you know how many houses have baby rooms in the pictures?
The sixth year. I realised the only way for me to get and stay pregnant would be through donor eggs. But I was furious. it was SO UNFAIR. And his boys kept coming, e-v-e-r-y other weekend. I felt less and less like I belonged. They were growing and thriving, while my dream children were only getting fainter and further away. In the infertility blogosphere I found a lot of support for loss and IF, but the stepmothering thing still made me feel lonely. I didn't want to direct my anger towards the kids or their mother, because that was not constructive at all, and was taking power away from me. But I didn't really find much connection there. My childlessness was my pain, and it doesn't help to blame other kids/people for the fact that they exist (or seem to rub salt in my wounds by being around)
The seventh year. The year we had a little ceremony to say farewell to Knut. Acknowledging our loss, our past, our hope, our DNA. Making room for a known donor, a friend of a friend. Hospital visits. Failure.

The eighth year. Enough heartbreak. Running out of time, turning 40. All or nothing. No more energy to find a donor ourselves, we fled to Spain where clinics have screened donors. Young. High success rates. Fast pace. Pregnant with two excellent embryos, I was grinning ear to ear for 8 weeks. Petrified when one tiny heart stopped beating. So hurt when one of the boys stopped visiting.
The ninth year. A healthy baby girl. Turning a monumental office into a dream home. Moving in. Nobody paid much attention to my health, of course I was tired with baby and renovation and losing weight. (When I look at the pictures now I can't believe how gaunt I looked.) But so over the moon happy with Suzy I didn't care about anything else. (silently the boy started visiting again)
The tenth year. Still so very happy that Suzy made it. The fact we used a donor has faded from everyday thought. The fact I'm a stepmother doesn't bother me any more. For the boys it is beyond obvious I'm Suzy's mama and that they all have the same papa. When the oldest said he would maybe move in here after his exams I felt happy (OK I admit, also slightly victorious)

This blog was my diary, my lifeline through infertility. You cannot find it on google, I try to keep it private, intended only for people who understand. So usually I do not participate in lists / games / prizes. At the same time I know I had a hard time finding people in situations comparable to mine who were willing to discuss their relationship troubles and solutions. So if you are reading this and want to know more feel free to ask. Leave a comment or send an email or invite me over to your blog. (sorry I'm not on social media, that's not for me)
I know I didn't write much about my Anger, my thoughts about leaving, my feelings of being a childless stepmother. At the time it was too much. And now it doesn't seem so important any more.

O well, since it is January 1st I'll throw in a resolution: I will take care of me again this year. Time for me alone, time for me and my DP.
yes, on top of searching for a new job and enjoying my combined family to the max.
Wishing you the best for 2015, the strength and patience to make things happen (and to accept what cannot happen)

From Amsterdam with Love,
Valery