It was towards the end of April on Long Island following the never ending cumbersome winter of 2014 as I looked into the “eyes” of purple pansies, our first purchased flowers of the season. At least a couple of weeks late for pansies, the weather had just started to cooperate, for a day here and there, and my husband and I were ready to initiate the slow yet glorious re-immersion into our yard. Aside from a strong mid to late March showing of my most revered flower, the crocus, the coming of spring had felt like a long awaited prize dangling just out of arms reach. Our last fertility treatment had failed on January 31. With all of my energy since then going towards humble attempts at putting one foot in front of the other, I had been able to give thought to little else. So the jolt I got looking at the purple pansies was sudden and unexpected. “I DON’T know how I’ve been doing this without you,” my soul spoke to the pansies. (Yes, I’m compelled to speak to plants. What of it??) The abysmal state of dealing with this awfulness for three whole months with practically NO garden suddenly took on a poignant significance. Because when life forces you to go through excruciating, traumatic, unbearable crap, better to do it with a garden than without one. (more…)
Evolvement in the midst of crap, trauma, and toddlers in fertility clinic waiting rooms
Below is a repost (with some new thoughts added on at the end) from this past fall from my old space on Blogspot.
I was in the middle of my fourth round of IVF in nine months and not feeling it at all. Every procedure, drug delivery, drug side effect, and doctor’s visit was a total slog. “I can’t stand this anymore. I really don’t want to be doing this. I cannot stand this stupid stupid fucking shit. I just want it to end. I just want it over. This is horrible. I CAN’T believe I’m still here. I would not wish this on my WORST enemy” was the soundtrack that played over and over and over in my mind. When you have had a total of 14 embryos transferred, 11 of them grade a, that have amounted to nothing, the notion that you might be working towards getting pregnant fades real fast. I was at the “I need to do everything I need to do to confirm we CAN’T get pregnant so that we can move on” point.
During this time I was sitting in my doctor’s waiting room anticipating yet another glorious vaginal sonogram. Having already started Lupron I was in the desirable mood of someone who had been forced to transition into menopause over the course of about 10 minutes. And as my luck would have it, it was also during this time that another patient in the waiting room had chosen to bring her
little brat child along with her to her fertility doctor appointment. (more…)