Small steps

BambiEyes saved me again.
That is the good thing of seeing her once a month, she tells me a lot had happened in April.
My cousin said no about DE - and I hid my pain from her.
I made a visit to tiniest and loveliest baby with best mom.
We bought baby clothes together. And I loved pushing the pram.
I went to toy shop to buy a wooden duck with flappy feet to push around for my nephews first birthday. Took it all the way to London. Spent a weekend with my brother, nephew and sister in law. Just growing quiet. Not really feeling the pain then, only really tired.
Dublin was lovely, very impressive and nice to meet my bloggy friends. ( no time or energy to process so many emotions. Just kept running around to pack all the good experiences in two days)
Back home so so tired. No words to describe to DP what I feel.
DP just going on about making holiday plans with his kids and I don't know how to say I'm dreading that something horrible.

Soooo, said BambiEyes, that's an awful lot to go through! And locking up sadness is only making you depressed. Asking the big questions is too hard and making you feel down even more. Therefore: Small Steps, Small Questions.
Trying to answer the question if I'll ever be able to be a happy stepgrandmother is like trying to prevent world war three. Says my BambiEyes.
Talk to DP, even though you don't know all the answers. First find a way to break up next weeks holiday in day trips with breaks for me. Take DP out, sit on a terrasje and talk. Or hold hands. Be together.
And think about working a bit, because working with my emotions all day is getting a bit much.

Then I went home much relieved.
The newspaper had a recipe for carrot burgers with garlic-mint-mayonnaise which I made, so yummy and healthy tasting. After that I dragged DP out of the house even though he claimed to be too tired. We walked, tried talking, I cried on his shoulder, I shared my feelings. He seemed to take it all in his stride. This morning while he was still sleepy I asked him how it made him feel. Nothing special he said. {message from Venus to Mars: I am looking for compassion, for sharing sadness and joy. I'm hoping you will make me feel safe with you. This answer only makes me feel you don't care!} When I then asked if he was getting tired of me being depressed, if he just wanted this to be over he said I must not think that.

So small steps, small questions. And taking better care of myself. Because BambiEyes said, yes, really, that I need to take care of myself in order to take care of my possible unborn future little ones.

Library

Went to the library this morning and started looking up books on egg cell donation. Three of them in total, and none available right now.
Secretly I was relieved.
I guess ever since the last meeting at BambiEyes I haven't really understood myself. For a year I had been thinking about donor eggs, since this winter I have been communicating about it (well, been trying to) and now that I have some answers I don't know what to do.
Maybe I'm not as ready as I thought I would be.
Maybe it bugs me with the whole infertility shebang that feelings can be so strong sometimes, but so hard to put into words other times.

With the blog it seemed logical that I would write about London and Dublin but somehow I was too tired. In my little travel guidebook it even said to stop and enjoy the peace and quiet of the seaside walk I was doing. Instead I walked quicker, trying to avoid my thoughts...

Maybe not so strange I felt sad when I was home again. I don't know. Was I really thinking the answers about my relationship with DP would come to me on that trip? Would my life be more bearable without stepkids? would it really be easier to move on to a childless partner to maybe have DE baby with, or maybe travel more together and cope without children together?
Would I never manage to keep a relationship longer than 5 years?

Tomorrow I'll see BambiEyes, hope she can show me how to untie this knot I'm in...

Dublin Blog Dinner

Plans!
I've booked my tickets: Rail and Sail on the way in on Monday 19th of April arriving in Dublin round 17h.
I'll fly out again on the Thursday. So I'd like to invite you all for a dinner somewhere in between.
Please vote for Monday Tuesday or Wednesday! (well, if you intend to come that is)
I'm hoping for a simple but nice place where we can talk, so suggestions for your fav EKO cafe are very welcome too, since I've never been to Dublin before.

This weekend was family weekend from my mothers family. Much fun was had in a brightly coloured family-farm.
It was so good to cook for twelve people! If I had been born 200 years ago and would have had all my dream babies, who knows if it would have been anything like that. (DP, if you should ever read this, remember this is my diary, my dreams and fears. Not everything is a plan to make a reality.) Farm was in the middle of nowhere, and much cycling was done. Loved it.
Was a bit awkward cycling next to -- o my, how am I going to tell all my cousins and their partners apart?-- boyfriend-of-no-DE-favourite-cousin. Totally avoided the whole DE question. But it took the shine off a little of seeing my favourite cousin again. I didn't want to share my sadness, wanted to pretend nothing has changed. It seemed to work for everyone else.
Managed to be in a different part of the farmhouse when my brother was telling stories about little nephew. Saturday I'll be off to London for his first birthday. I find it difficult to 'feel like an aunt', just don't know what an aunt should feel like.
If I look back I have one (childless by choice) aunt who is like a second mother to me and lives close by. Four other aunts, gosh how do I say, lovely (in-law?) family members I've always taken for granted? They are just there? Special but not special?
So maybe I shouldn't worry about not feeling very aunty like, being in a different country and all.
My brother mentioned to DP he was happy I'm finally visiting. I'll try to be happy yet another weekend.
And afterwards a British train should rock me for hours, then a ferry can cover my face with salty Irish spray. Hope Dublin will embrace another infertile, will fill me with wonder. And Good Food!

Easter survived

Dragons were tamed, Friday was Good.

After crying on BFG shoulder on Thursday I was home late enough that everyone was in bed already. (YoungerStepson almost 7, OlderStepson almost 11 and DP too) Just one night before facing Friday. I knew beforehand that a whole day at home with the boys would mean trouble. I needed a Plan, and the Plan was dragon movie with a twist: I invited the neighbour's kid too. He is only 5 and a half and adores the bigger boys, while in turn the boys understand they have to be a bit more careful and not fight all the time.
We started the day with inline skating on our local playground, everyone on the next pair of skates, bigger feet again... Oldest kid on my old skates! The weather was nice so we had a good hour to release some energy before the movie.
I was a bit hesitant to go to the 3D version, and neighbour agreed with me and drove all of us to the mega cinema for a 2D early afternoon showing.
The boys were fine, and came out with their arms wide, flying like dragons. Having so much fun that neighbour and me could sit down for fresh mint tea. Relaxed conversation swinging back and forth between my infertility and grief and her pregnancy, my counsellor and her baby-girlie-wallpaper she had bought while we were in the cinema. She understands enough to not be insensitive, I think she is still a bit shocked by her miscarriage last summer. (I think she was 12 weeks or so, and needed a D&C as well) She never had much chance to grieve before this pregnancy I think. But this was not discussed.
I was happy I didn't have to face the day alone and think in the end the day was good for everyone.
Cooked a simple macaroni-ham-cheese dinner (OK, I admit I snuck in small pieces of tomato/carrot/celery/sweet pepper) mostly because that was my favourite food way back. And because I expected little kid-resistance that way. It worked. YS asked if we could have this more often.

Then I was tired.
Saturday morning when I was trying to relax in the shower, working up the energy to face the kids THREE more days I was crying when DP suddenly walked in on me. When he asked what's wrong I only gave him the short version, that I find it hard to have to think so much about having a baby. I didn't have the breath to tell him how hard his proposed 'trade-off' is for me, to take on his kids as if they are mine before we have more. I can't do it I don't think.
We don't even dare to take the boys for a haircut for fear of upsetting their mother. They look like mushrooms now.
Saturday we went to the beach. My highschool girlfriend's parents still have a seaside apartment, and she goes there with her husband and almost 3 year old son. With curly hair, dark lashes and blue eyes he is irresistible. And cute.
After the rain clouds cleared the sun came out and we went for a walk on the beach.
I think it was the first time ever I saw sea stars on a Dutch beach! Have to grab DPs phone tonight so I can show off precious little picture.
Sunday was time out day.
Monday we travelled by train to DPs parents, as did his brother with his family. So again an afternoon with three boys (nephew is two and a half) No wonder I'm spent. DP had not dared to tell me his parents had ordered a cold 'fish-dish' for dinner again, he was afraid I wouldn't come... But I was past caring. I can survive on buttered toast and eat salmon just for show.
As a treat on the way back we took a gamble with changing trains: from silly stops-everywhere-train arriving 20:08 to smooth international train leaving 20:08 on different platform and it paid off. Running up and down stairs, hopping over suitcases delaying its timely departure. Nice seats, hardly any stops. For 58 minutes it was just the two of us, together. Easter survived.

He said maybe, she said no

Even before gardening yesterday my cousin told me her answer was no. She had given it serious thought, discussed it with her boyfriend and her best (girl) friend but kept having doubts. And therefore wisely said she shouldn't do it.
Most likely she wouldn't have made it through the screening anyway.

Gardening was nice, ripping out slabs of stone covered with mud and grass. Good let out for hidden anger and pain. On the outside we had a good time together. On the inside I was slowly crumbling...
After another cup of tea I fled before dinner. So grateful that BigFriendlyGiant lives in the same city, would meet me for dinner with just minutes notice. And lend me his shoulder to cry on. Many more minutes.

Rationally I knew this would happen. Emotionally it still hurts. I guess that's OK.
It's just that in the past week two strangers remarked how alike we were, we could be sisters.

rational, emotional and the theory of mind

Last week I've been practicing with BambiEyes for the meeting that DP and I will have with her today.
It was hard to put into words, but she made me realise that is based on trying to find rational words for a deeply emotional desire. That it is part of my biology to want to be pregnant (Gah, I never got around to writing a post titled Boobs are for Babies)
I found myself saying that being pregnant means that the human being growing from tiny cells is essentially my flesh and blood, in the most literal sense. Part of my body, part of me, part of my dream.

And then this post was sitting there, being too hard to finish. Because in that session I said out loud that I will not stay with DP if he is not in on the DE journey.
Two days ago DP asked suddenly: 'Why are we going to see BambiEyes again?'
me: 'To talk about what we can/want to do about getting babies'
DP: 'But she doesn't know'
...

It made me wonder if he really 'forgets' these things? But I figured that giving an honest answer was better than the sarcastic and hurtful options like 'since you don't remember you don't care anyway so why should I tell you.'

But then, yesterday while we had put a homemade bolognese sauce on the stove, a sauce that gets nicer if it simmers longer DP started talking. For an hour! Did I really consider the donor egg option? Yes. I said that 5 years ago he told me he is not the tour-around-the-world-guy because of his boys. And I told him I wanted children. That we both agreed that were important needs in our relationship. That I don't want to spend my life as a childless stepmother.
We got talking about his boys again. How sometimes when I get bored or annoyed with them I just leave and see a friend. How I leave all the kiddie stuff up to him. And even what we do on those weekends. And that he was afraid that with DE I would do exactly the same. How he wouldn't want it thrown in his face that it would be his baby, his problem if it would cry all night. How you can't hand them back on Sunday evening.
It was weird to hear him admit that he sometimes doesn't like being home with the boys. That he is hurt if he asks them if they want to do A, B or C they just say no, no and no and go to their room and play with Lego or Xbox (Wow, Xbox4NappyRash never more appropriate)
I thought it was just me being driven insane by the confinement.
Very revealing.
DP reminded me that sometimes he looks at his kids and recognises part of himself. Little character traits that are sometimes endearing, sometimes annoying, exactly because of that personal recognition. That I might not have that genetic link...
I said we shouldn't do DE if he would always be on the lookout for things like that.
And that people try to find a donor that resembles the recipient for those reasons.
(we didn't go into the nature/nurture character bits)

We talked some more about his boys. They are almost 7 and 11. That the oldest would be like 2 years away from puberty and would be too old now already for a different relationship with me. Says DP. I feel that he is more open to me than ever before, more open than I'm ready for sometimes. But puberty scares me. I was the good girl at school, left wondering why on earth 15 year old boys thought it was funny to throw paper planes while it was obviously childish behaviour, or scooters were obviously dangerous, expensive and polluting the environment...
I cling to what I read in a stepparenting book: puberty is breaking the strong bonds with your parents and becoming an independent personality. And since stepparents don't have the same bond there is less to break away from. I realise this might backfire in ways unimaginable to me now, but pffff, not yet.

Soooo, I sort of feel on trial. Must pass minimum threshold of stepmothering before allowed to become a mother.
I know that it is important to be a team with DP, to trust each other to fall back on when kids aren't angels. That realistically that is 99% of the time. Maybe less if you count the time sleeping. (Is that why parents love to look down on their sleeping children? )
Don't know why the prospect of a complicated family seems more daunting now. Not so much the near future, the boys are quite fond of little kids. But in their independent future it might not be possible to avoid confrontation with their mother. It is one thing to respect/ignore people 60 km away, but it is a different idea with ceremonies or hospitals or what else life might think of.
(evil stupid little voice wishes donor sperm was the issue, so much more easily solved, easier complications. Or just run away, start with new partner and clean slate...)
How easy to drive myself mad!

This Friday it will be me and the boys. (DP works) Hope it will indeed be Good Friday.
arghhgr, BambiEyes tonight, gardening with dear cousin tomorrow, then Friday, then Easter.
Maybe this movie is just what we need: How to Tame Your dragon

5 1/365

Yesterday's post took its own turn. I think I set out to write about love, and maybe sex, about how dreams and plans got mangled by time and adversity.
But these days The Anger pops up and takes over. Not so much in real life maybe, but here it happened more than once. This is supposed to be a more or less safe place, better writing out than acting out The Anger. BambiEyes even warned me for this, and encouraged me to write. Being out here, admitting infertility (cringe!) emotion (blah!)
Sometimes just the writing itself is enough to lift the load of carrying all that emotion.

This is what my mother brought on Sunday. I don't know what to make of it, and decided it must be the floral equivalent of a haiku.
Something about it disturbs me. One stem carrying 7 lilies, three flowering sprigs that will never bear fruit....
Pretty girly springy pink though.

Two sessions ago BambiEyes said something to me that got me thinking. I was telling her about trying to share and connect with DP, that sometimes we would hug and I'd say 'it's not fair' and DP would say 'no, it's not fair' and no difficult conversation was needed to feel close for a moment.
Then BambiEyes said with a smile that technically it would be better if I said 'I find it not fair'
First instinct: But but but it really is not fair! It's the Universe being mean to me and I can't help it! Poor helpless victim me! How dare she suggest it's my fault!
Second thought: hey, my thoughts and opinions are mine and mine alone, I might just have a shred of influence here.
While it was only a minute change of perspective, it's made me feel lighter. I might still be at the bottom of the well, at least I'm not sprawled on my back with the Unfairness blocking my chest. More like sitting next to it, flexing my arms and legs and looking up and around...

5

Five years today, time to look back.

My friends had warned me that all DP was after would be an affair. That no father with girlfriend and young children would leave when in the course of their career they met a career woman, statistics said 99% sure.
Since I knew that at 32 yo it was time to really look for a partner if I ever wanted to be a mother I wasn't going to waste my time with an office affair, no matter how much we liked each other or how deeply in love, and told him so in no uncertain terms. DP was only more impressed with my confidence and independence. After some weeks of agony he made his decision (I wanted no part in his decision of leaving his kids, I never asked, I wasn't exactly after an abandoning father, and besides, I never believed he would really leave, he seemed the perfect father to me)
Then my bell rang, and he moved in with me, bringing just one small bag.
After only one week it seemed we had known each other for a long time (oh my, how cheesy!!)
It took 9 months to meet his kids for the first time (oh my, how cheesy!!) and I figured we better hurry up with making our own baby if we didn't want that age gap to be so big. At the same time DP was struggling with the guilt, and was scared of having two sets of part-time kids. Statistics for failure of second marriages are around 66%... I figured that if we kept it together for one year the worst of the hormones would have settled and we would be ready to go. Come March I felt he wasn't ready, and I thought one year was a bit on the cheesy side anyway. Me being a numbers girl I waited for 15 months to roll around, which nicely coincided with my 34th birthday. I felt all romantic when I had arranged for a special weekend and proposed at midnight. Not that I was much the marrying type myself, but that seemed to have been lacking from his previous relationship, that was too big a step he said. And I wanted his full commitment, I wanted to fully consciously say: yes, let's take these big steps, let's get married and have children. DP's answer 'but I thought you didn't care about marriage' wasn't quite what I had hoped for.
My girlfriend since highschool consolingly pointed out to me that in our country these things don't necessarily go together: that I was right to want to hurry with babies, but that we still could get married at 65. Hoping she was right I waited for DP to recover from the shock. And waited. Started on folic acid. DP laughing incredulously 'you can't get pregnant on your own!' When my 35th birthday started looming DP was trying to assure me that statistics of getting a baby wouldn't drop precipitously on that exact date. NO DP, our chances are already slimming by the day! But he seemed to think he was superman, having two kids already against all odds. The trip to Berlin, with little Knut in the Zoo was my breaking point: I wasn't going to pack any condoms anymore, or ever use them again. DP was mildly surprised, but didn't seem to agonise at all. And I felt that if he shared the bed with me willingly and knowingly I was not stealing or forcing a baby from him.
DP was really surprised two weeks later when my period rolled around. Hello?! I thought I'd be happy and lucky to be pregnant within a year of TTC, and wouldn't hesitate to run to a doctor after 12 months. I got my referral letter after 7 months, but waited for our first appointment till a year had gone by. Then DP was surprised we found ourselves in a hospital so soon. Again Hello?!
I was surprised the whole hospital business was over so quickly. We spent our 4 year anniversary with the news there was nothing the hospital could or would do to help us anymore. (short version) It took me about a year to let this sink in. I haven't dared ask DP how long it took him, but I'm afraid that after a week/month he thought to himself that he was lucky to have two kids and a new life with all the freedom he wanted.
I feel cheated, so so cheated. I WAITED for him. While we can never know, I might not have had that early menopause problem back then. (little voice: or you could have had years of hospital drama)
It seems I will have to weigh very carefully how long I will wait for DP to come around the donor egg issue. BambiEyes pointed out to me that DP makes decisions easily when the boundaries are clear. I'd never thought it would come to this.......

The Other Conversation

Yesterday was DP's birthday, and I took him out for dinner. Food was wonderful, decor was nicely eclectic (classical, art deco, Moroccan you name it) and service very friendly. In the back of my mind was replaying my last counseling session with BambiEyes, where she stressed several times I should talk to DP seriously about how important having a baby is to me. That I should take him out to dinner away from home distractions, let him know I had something important to say. That I shouldn't wait till desert, no more putting it off. That I should give him a set time to think about it, then go out again and have serious conversation again. Then come see her together.
Since her evening appointments tend to go quickly I picked a time already, I can always reschedule later. Well until 48 hours in advance.
But it was such a wonderful evening that I didn't want to get too serious. (little voice blabs I was putting it off again. Shut up little voice! I was enjoying the evening)
Around dessert I heard myself say that 5 years ago he spent his birthday on the last and only couple counselling session with his Ex. And how our first personal conversation was about me wanting children. He said he did give that serious thought at the time. But that to him we have tried all we can, and now live on as is.
That there is no point in me getting a baby from another woman, since we already have two kids from him and another woman. That a new baby will be a pain in the neck just as his two boys are, inherently kidlike. That I met his youngest when he was only two years old (and 7 months says little voice)
That those first years fly by anyway. That I'm romanticizing it all.
I was perplexed. flummoxed. flabbergasted. I think this conversation was a failure of epic importance.
How could I fail at explaining I really want to be a mother, be pregnant, have a baby, have our own little family?
Didn't sleep much last night
Flashes of conversation coming back.
Lovely bit: How sometimes he feels so much in love with me he wants to drag me into the nearest jewelry store and splurge on me.
Painful poison bit: How Ex became pregnant while on bcp, how difficult that was? Me: well, it would change your life dramatically... DP: Had I considered the impact on their sex life?
little voice: What The F#$%^&*)(_+|":?!!
Silent bit: holding his hand, stroking it, choked up, unable to put into words why I feel a distance to his boys, after DP saying it's my choice to keep that distance.
These boys have a mommy who takes care of them 12 days out of 14, so I'm thinking it's perfectly natural and healthy their first loyalty is with her. Being boys I think they enjoy having the company of their big powerful Dad (lift me over your head Daddy! I'm going to be even taller than you when I grow up Daddy!) To them would I be more than collateral damage? I mean, in their words they don't live here, just stay here in the guest room.
And no, it does not occur to kids that because we took them to Ikea to pick their favourite bunk beds it would be their beds in their room with their toys. After all, how are they supposed to know what a normal guest room looks like? I'm wise enough to not expect gratitude from kids, they can't help they were born, heck, even their parents couldn't seem to help that.

It was this week that DP and I had a conversation at the kitchen table. Someone in NL was in the newspaper, and DP mentioned his nickname Mr Crowbar. I put my puzzled face on, never heard of him. I opened my mouth to ask if it wasn't like... DP: Mr Cactus? from the kiddie show? No, not him at all! While I was still searching for that name. DP said it was in big shiny letters on my forehead, no need for me to actually say it.

How is it that a silly joke is in big letters on my forehead for him to read while the purpose of our relationship eludes him?

When walking back from the restaurant I asked gently if he would be willing to join me and talk with BambiEyes together. DP said yes fine. I feel sort of bad for having made that appointment already, and BambiEyes instructions to take things step by step with DP and therefore not starting out with that fact, as it would put more pressure on DP. I guess I forgot the middle step she suggested: Give DP time to think.

Deep in the dark of night I was thinking about jealousy, the big unspoken taboo emotion. Is it not OK for me to say I love his Ex's kids less than I expect to love my baby? Is it not OK that it hurts me they were conceived by accident?

oh. Also yesterday was my first maternity visit to friend M in hospital. When I asked if I could bring her something, thinking of cake, cheese or whatever craving she might have, she texted back saying a good mood, or a big crying fit. And just her recognition of the possible need for a crying fit made me so happy to go. And gosh her baby was tiny, just 2.5kg, but the cutest littlest thing I've ever seen up close. Big enough not to be scary like some early preemies but so small he could probably fit in his fathers hands. Visitors were not allowed inside the baby room, but it was fitted with a nice big window, so I could see her feeding that tiny bundle.
And only now I realise that when looking at him I totally forgot to ask him what it was like to be frozen, a miracle. Hopefully he doesn't know how long and scary the road was to get him in his mothers arms. The road to get him in my arms will only be a couple weeks longer (eat all you can little one!), and I'm already looking forward to it. Scant consolation maybe, but magical nevertheless. with a friend who understands. Wondering if I should bring DP, show him the magic again...

Sorry for ranting at people who are trying not to conceive and still do. Logically it seems 99.9% chance they were stupid/not careful/lying and 0.1% bad luck. But you know...
Sorry for not acknowledging award thingies, it's a bit much right now.
Deep sigh for the turmoil of transition, hugs for you all.

giving

Giving blood, I did it again.
26 months ago was the last time it worked. At the next occasion, failing the Hb test, I decided together with the donation doctor I would take a break and focus on getting pregnant. The system would call for me again after so many months had past.
I knew I had to fill out their questionnaire with those two small questions. Have you been pregnant and Are you pregnant now. This was the first time I had to answer yes/no instead of no/maybe. And I feel only 1% melancholic about that. And 98% proud that my healthy body does help other people who are not so fortunate. That leaves 1% sadness over the fact that 3 years and two months ago my cousin might have been saved by one more transfusion. He was only 31, but no matter how healthy and young he was, life with a ruptured liver that started to bleed as soon as he was out of hospital in his own bed didn't last 6 weeks.
Should have known that typing this does reawaken that sad sad time.
It's weird to compare missing a family member I was so close with, with missing my non existent child.

And then... email... colleagues from my past job looking for people for a big project at DP's company. The company is still deciding which party to hire, and depending on that answer I might have a chance to jump on board. And maybe start real soon, tomorrow for all they care!
Wow, how exciting.

The human mind keeps amazing me. Minutes ago I was sniffing away some tears, now I can hardly sit still to type this. It would be nice to work at the same office as DP again. We could bike to work on my supercool tandem. Spring is in the air...