Journeywoman

All Good Gifts

I'm at my in-law's house today.  My MIL is much better than I thought she would be, and that is good.  D had his diabetic tests today (he's been in a research program for almost 20 years and each year he goes and gets a number of tests done) and the ones with results we got today were okay, and that's also good.

So why does my mood have cancer of the puppy?

One, we're going into that funnest of all fun times (sarcasm boys and girls) for infertiles if you guessed Thanksgiving and Christmas, you're RIGHT!!! Nothing says you're barren and you suck and you're barren because you suck like another year without a Baby's First Christmas ornament on the tree. Another year that I can't press a little hand to a candle to light the menorah. 

Two, I'm in the gift funk.

I get the gift funk every year.  Seriously.  It isn't always in December, sometimes it is in March (my Birthday) once it was in June (My anniversary).  Sometimes I just get into it.

I hate that I get into it.  I have so many gifts.  I truly want for very little materialistically, and those I really want I work to get.  That being said, I love choosing and giving gifts to my family and friends.  I really go all out to get something that they will like.  I make sure that they get their gifts on time (meaning before the holiday unless we have both agreed to it being after) and not to get them the same thing every year.

This is not reciprocated.  In the case of my brother, I can tell you what I'm getting from him now.  Omaha steaks.  It was amazing the first year he did it.  Then the second year was nice.  Now the 7th year....come on.  You can't think of something else I'd like? Even when I flat out say there are other things I'd like?  I really would rather he spent the money on this to a charity in my name than know for a fact that I was something he crossed off his to-do list with little to no thought.  Oh and yes, I get a gift for him, his wife, and my two nieces. 

I know I am sounding like a whiny bitch.  Oh, yeah, I'm being one.  But while I'm at it...why don't I go into the fact that often after a grueling search for the perfect gift I hand it to someone who says that my gift is "coming".  It hasn't yet.  There are a few of D's friends who are the worst offenders, and to be honest, the worst offender of this, I'm no longer speaking to (for a reason that has NOTHING to do with this--trust me, the story is in the blog) but others have done the same.  And while most of the time, the joy I feel when I see them open their gifts and I'm proven right--that it IS a good gift--is a big present to me, I can't help feeling like I am not valued as much as I value them.  I've never pricemarked the gifts I've been given. If someone put a hell of a lot of thought and love in making me a gift, I usually can tell.  My birth sister had had a hellish financial season, so she said that she is getting everyone a special card.  For a  dyslexic to go to the store and go through all the xmas cards...that's a gift and I respect the hell out of it. Would I have liked a thank you when I give her something?  Okay, I'm not going into that.

That being said, we're cutting down on our gift list this year.  Mainly because really, I don't want to deal.  I want to concentrate on making a few really good gifts and, well, the rest is the rest.  I work in publishing, and there are lots of good gifts to be had.  Though I was told by someone that since the gifts didn't cost me anything, they didn't count--I have to believe they do.

I've been looking on some websites and finding low cost, yet meaningful gifts to give to people this year.  I thought I'd share.  Do It Yourself Christmas, Buy Nothing Christmas alternatives.

Oh, what do I want? 

Costing nothing but time
I wish my brother would sit down and write me a short story.  He did that for my Bat Mitzvah, a short story on 2 sheets of paper.  Those two sheets of paper came to school with me every day for the next two years.  A bully ripped it up before my eyes in 9th grade, but truly, I remember every word to this day.  I like to think I'm a good writer, but my brother was the best. 

I'd love my husband to record me a CD of him reading poems.  I love his speaking voice and I love listening to him read.

I love when people make CD's for me of songs that make them think of me.  I both love doing this and love when someone does it for me.

and in the words of Idina Menzel

I could use a little help,
I could use a little hope,
I could a little something ...that illuminates the point of my being on this earth
...I could use a little miracle. 

I've heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord

I'm allergic to cats.   When I'm around a cat my eyes swell and tear and I start to sneeze and cannot stop.  

D is allergic to cats, when he is around a cat for a while he sneezes, coughs, and starts to breath like a stalker.  It sounds funny but it isn't.  

I sometimes forget that the world cannot and should not rearrange itself to my allergies. Okay, being honest here, cannot, I never forget.  Should not...I do tend to forget. 

My best friend, my sister in all but blood told me about an addition to their family of a cat.  She's living farther away from me now and I know that she's wanted a cat for a long time.  In a perfect world I would have been gracious. 

The world is not perfect and I went into the phone booth and put on my superbitch costume.  To be fair to myself, when she said "We have a cat."  What I was hearing is, "You're not welcome in our home anymore."  Yeah, I suck like that.  

When we got to the point where we were speaking to each other again we had to realize things.  She had to realize that I wasn't exaggerating about my allergies, and I've been underscoring D's.  It is the one allergy on this earth that D is worse than I am.  It might happen that all the cleaning she plans to do won't be half enough and we'll have about 2 hours before we'll have to leave the house and stay in a hotel. 

I had to realize that the cat was something she wanted.  It didn't mean she didn't love me. 

So I'm throwing this out to the wise internets because most of you lot have pets.  What do you do when you have guests who are allergic to them?  Overnight guests?

All answers appreciated.  

Anger

Be not angry that you cannot make others as you wish them to be, since you cannot make yourself as you wish to be.--Thomas Kempis

I've been angry lately.  Or maybe in a big case of annoyed. 

I get annoyed at poor D for little things.  I get annoyed at myself for little things.  It's a wonder that my co-workers still think I'm nice.  This week I've had to go for walks at lunch instead of eating with "my little lunch group."  Main reason, because I'm worried I'll say something I shouldn't.  

It's not that anything is going particularly wrong--but nothing is going particularly right.  Also D's last day of school is tomorrow and he's off for the summer.  I get jealous of that. 

I want to move forward and start (and finish) IVF #2--but I've got to wait. 

And lately, I'm wondering if I want to continue at all.  Could I get up and walk away from it.  I'm worried about what will happen in China.  We have to renew paperwork and there are no guarantees. 

I just don't know how much longer I can keep fighting.  I'm tired, bruised, and damn near broken.  Can I start again with the whole process for domestic adoption?  Do I want to?

And the worst question of all...is it worth it?  

No one can answer that.  I have only ever pictured me a mother.  Being pregnant--would be nice, but not the hugest thing.  Adoption fit for me.  But I don't know much longer I can keep in this holding pattern.  I don't know if I have the faith to believe it will end with me as a mom.  I need to know if I can see a life for myself that does not have someone calling me mommy.  

It frightens me.  

Now the years are rolling by me

They are rocky beneath the leaves

I am older than I once was

And younger than I'll be--that's not unusual. 

Though this is strange--after changes upon changes we are more or less the same

After changes we are more or less the same.  

---

Mel--er--Lollipop has this great post about trail names.  It didn't take me long to come up with mine. 

I'm The Boxer. 

I was 17 when I first sat down and listened to the song.  It resonated with me so strongly.  I didn't know then that in some of the darkest times of my life it would give me the momentum to go on.   If I do go to my corner, come out, with my gloves raised and ready to hit back first--it will be because of this song.  I love you Paul Simon, more than I can say.  And, sometimes, I hate you too.  When I want to lay down and stop fucking fighting--I don't think that it is in me to do so.  

In the clearing stands a boxer

and a fighter by his trade

and he carries a reminder of every glove that laid him down 

and cut him til he cried out, 

in his anger and his shame

"I am Leaving! I am Leaving!"

But the fighter still remains. 

The fighter still remains. 

So, what's going on with you?

A co-worker asked me this question.

I'm fairly sure that she wishes she didn't. 

The good:

D got tenure.  We can look for a pre-approval for a loan and start the house hunt in earnest. 

I am in the Jeopardy pool.  I took an online tryout and then got called back.  I did well at the audition. 

My parents are *knock wood* healthy.  My dad turns 81 next week. 

I had a nice visit with both my nieces. Long talk with my youngest one.  She's 17 now.  It sucks.

The bad:

My goddaughter hurt her sweet self on the playground.  

We seem to be going through money quickly--too quickly.  Must try to stop that. 

I'm not interested in reading, or writing, or knitting.  

The ugly. 

D's mom.  Still in a holding pattern.  I think she shouldn't be in a holding pattern and she should get this fucking cancer cut out.  She's accepting this.  She's not fighting, not learning about what's going on to know the better question.  I never GOT Dylan Thomas before.  I get him now.

My godfather

Has been diagnosed with cancer of the bladder. 

D's diabetes.  

Sunday night I woke up, touched his back and it was wet.  I shook him awake and had him test.  I gave him glucose.  He was 37 (normal is 100 +/- 20) I handed him a can of Pepsi.   He said he didn't want it.  This is a new thing for D.  He has only fought food once.  I tell him to drink.  I tell him to eat.  He screams at me "I WANT TO GO BACK TO SLEEP YOU BITCH!"  I don't react.  I'm stunned.  I tell him he has to eat more before he sleeps.  Finally he does.  I turn off the light and sob myself to sleep.  D tries to hold me and I turn away.  If my oldest niece hadn't been here, I would have slept on the couch. 

It's not right, my being mad at him.  He had no idea the next day what he said.  He was stunned and shattered that he said it.  But it still hurt.  I've had little to no patience with him since.  He's looking into an insulin pump.  

I suppose I now know how he feels when I yell at him in hormone induced rages.  I have to say "It's the diabetes, not D." It still sucks. 

So, what's going on with you?

Steel

My mother in law has been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.

It is not the "truly evil" kind, but it isn't good either. We've had to push our IVF #2 back again.

I was the one who had to tell D. His mom found out and since D can't get calls at work she called me. I wasn't going to tell him until I got home but he called me at work and told me he needed to know, he needed to know now. So I told him.

He started to cry. And I couldn't hold him. I could just listen through the phone, and I hated it.

We don't know the protocol yet. We don't know what happens next. She has another test in July and then she'll have surgery.

D isn't that close to his parents. Sometimes I blame the adoption, sometimes I blame the fact that they treat him like he's 11. Often I communicate better with his folks than he does. But I will make myself stand back and have D minister to them. They need that.

* *

In a total change of subject, we were watching Steel Magnolias tonight. I cut away for the part where Julia Roberts dies. I'm married to a diabetic, I don't need to see it all. I was struck though by the relationship between Claree (Olympia Dukakis) and Ouiser (Shirley McClane). They loved to push each other's buttons, they loved to snip at each other, but you saw a deep and abiding friendship and love there.

D said that was me and L in 50 years. I huffed and stuff since I don't think either of them are very nice, but I watched and I saw the friendship there.

I can only hope.

* *

Diabetic Police

Sorry I haven't been big with the blogging. I've been doing well with my writing. It seems that when I write and when I blog the two don't seem to mesh.

So now I'm blogging.

My period was due last week. Hasn't come, I'll probably need provera. One thing that happens when I miss periods is that I get pissy. That's been happening.

**Please note that the following is a RANT. I adore my husband. He is my heart and my soul and my life. We are made up, we are not splitting, he just happens to be a jackass sometimes and that is the story that follows**

D and I have been picking on each other. Little things. The fact that we haven't had sex in some time probably comes into it. Not too long--but longer than I'm comfortable with. Bad timing, bad allergies, bad moods. But then, it's April, and TS Elliot had it right.

Tonight we scuffled over dinner. His blood sugar was 240 (should be 100) when I was starting to make dinner. I was ready to put the stuff back in the fridge and make myself some pasta. But D said no, I could make the stuff (burgers and baked "fries") and he'd eat only a little and have the rest for leftovers. Fine.

Dinner made, we sit down and are enjoying dinner and D is enjoying a handful of fries. Then one "fry" and then three more and you get the picture. I try to be subtle. I give him a look. I put my hand over the fries when he's reaching. He waits until my hand is gone and grabs some more. I then say, "Enough."

I am then bitched out because he's not a child and I should have said something nicer. I lose it. I respond I am not the effing diabetic police and since he has told me (a number of times) that he prefers when I pause him he has no right to tell me how.

An aside here. I HATE BEING THE DIABETIC POLICE! I don't do well with portion control, but I'm learning stuff. D however has no "filter" that tells him he is full, not after 20+ years of eating when the glucose meter tells you to. But this goes against my Jewish mother nature that says that everything can be fixed with the right meal. I HATE telling him to stop eating. I HATE IT.

Anyway I get bitched out and then I respond that he is ignoring his own responsibility. That he had the responsibility to do as he said he would. He ignores me. I repeat this again until it sinks in and then we retreat to corners of the house to lick our wounds.

We made up. But I'm still annoyed. I'm still raging that I have to do this, and knowing he won't. There are days that I don't know when to pick the battle, and I probably should have not done anything. But then he snaps at ME when his blood glucose is high. Okay, I should note it isn't at me. He snaps, and I happen to be there and listening to it.

Currently there are clinical trials going on in MA for a possible cure. When I read about it I imagined a day in the future when I wouldn't have to ask D "What's your blood like?" I wouldn't have to touch his back or hand to see if he was sweaty and that meant low. When I could cook whatever the hell I want for him and not worry about the carbs. I actually started to cry.

People don't think of diabetes as a disease. People think "Well there's insulin" but it is so much more than that. It is everyone around the diabetic worrying about various things.

I hate this disease. I hate that it might take my D away from me. I hate it. I hate that we have these stupid fights because I worry so goddamn much.

Madame Defarge

Not a whole lot to report here.

I've become an Obama girl, as indicated from my last post.

Another thing I've been doing is knitting. Quite a lot. I'm in the middle of making my sister a Gryffindor scarf. It's coming along nicely.

I've been thinking quite a lot of Madame Defarge. For those of you who aren't literature geeks, she was the villain of the book Tale of Two Cities. She would knit a register of the people who pissed her off.

If my knitting were to be a register of people who pissed me off these people would be listed.

The people who made my "9-10 month wait" a possible 4 year wait for a child.

People who tell me to "just adopt"

Doctors who think that fat automatically = unhealthy. If I come to a doctor's office with an ear infection, I don't want to hear about my weight.

The entire Bush administration.

Health insurance companies.

People who take their cute 19-20 month olds with them when they go to the fertility clinic. I love my dr's office so much when they told a woman who was LITERALLY showing off her child to people waiting for bloodwork and dildo-cam rides. "Yes, he's 18 months. Isn't he cute. I think he's cute." He is, lady. You make me want to puke.

Most of the drivers in New Jersey.

So yeah, my mood has been better. But I do have my knitting.

Who would you put in your knitting register?

Blessing the lights

Tonight was the last night of Chanukah.

Tonight the menorah held 9 candles.

Tonight I ate latkes, watched Cold Case, and thought about how lucky I am.

8 blessings

Because I live in America and can light my candles in any window, I thank you.

Because I have the luxury of being annoyed by my mother instead of mourning her death this year, I thank you.

Because I have a husband who adores me, I thank you.

Because I have friends who I can lean on, I thank you.

Because I have health insurance which will help me to try again, I thank you.

Because I managed to have an LID over 6 months prior to the new rules in China, I thank you.

Because my parents are in a position both financially and psychologically to help me, I thank you.

Because both I and my husband are in reasonably good health, I thank you.

I am still angry at Gd. But the lights have chased away the darkest part of my despair....And for that, I thank you--my dear friends in the computer.

Lights in the dark

I think my therapist has started to refill the tissue boxes right before I come.

I cried, out of nowhere today in therapy. Then came home and D was so exhausted he went to bed at 8 (30 minutes after I got home) and now my throat is hurty, and I'm not sleepy.

I've been lighting the menorah. Usually with D.

Tonight I lit it on my own and I could barely choke the words of the blessings out.

I'm angry with Gd.

My therapist says it is okay to be angry with Gd. But the part of me that is eternally 7 years old thinks that Gd will punish my anger severely.

There is a part of me that believes that somewhere there had been a choice to be made. The life of my mother, or IVF #1 working. I don't care that this is illogical. I don't care that it flies in the face of all that we are told Gd is about. That's how I feel. And when I think about that, if I had been given the choice, yes, I would have chosen what happened.

My mom is home. She's much much better, and anyone would think that I would be grateful for that.

I am. Believe me I am.

But I am also angry that this may have been at a sacrifice that I didn't know I would have to make.

I don't know that this post makes sense, and I might delete it when I come to my senses, But then I might not.

I just know that I wish I felt more grateful than I do. I wish I felt better than I do. And while I am angry, seething,furious at Gd, I hope that the stupid footprints poem is right. I hope that he/she/it is carrying me, because I don't know what to do next.

The weekend

There were good things and bad things on Thanksgiving weekend. Working out in favor of the good, but of course I'm going to start with the bad things first.

• My sister-in-law didn't understand why I didn't want to see friends of hers and my brothers who have a three year old. The three-year-old was conceived by ART after all, and don't I want to know that it works sometimes? The answer--no, not today, not this week. She just didn't get it and I burst into loud noisy sobs that I just couldn't control. It made everyone feel awkward and D got me out of the room hugging me, patting me, and telling me how much he loved me. She apologized and things are okay between us, but it still wasn't good.
• At the restaurant where we went on Thanksgiving, I was seated in direct line of sight of the most perfect little 18 month old cherub. I asked to move so I wasn't in the sight, and no one would move with me. Finally my mother-in-law figured out what was going on. When I went to the bathroom to melt down a little I came back and she had switched with me. I would have rather been facing away from the cherub but it helped.
• My sister and brother-in-law were bewildered at the frosty reception I gave them. I hate feeling sorry for them and I hate feeling angry at my sister who really has lost so much. I don't like my brother-in-law who hurts her. But I was in no place to be her protector, and I was in no place to see how glad she was that I was going through it. Though, to be fair, my brother said that she felt bad and stuff.
• My nieces were distant. I realize it was because they witnessed my breakdown but I was looking forward to talks about boys with the oldest and talks about everything with the youngest.
• My mom, REALLY Unhappy about not hosting Thanksgiving for the first time in my 36 years was in a shit mood and tried to do too much. The night after Thanksgiving was painful for her and us because she was in so much pain. I want my mom up and better and now damn it!


But there were good things too. And I'd be remiss if I didn't list them.

• My mom was home, and bad mood aside, was better than she had been.


• Staying in a hotel was WONDERFUL. It happened to be the same hotel that D and I spent our wedding night. We were able to go swimming on Friday and we were able to retreat and have some truly amazing sex. If the price is right we might do this again on Thanksgiving--hopefully my folks won't flip out.


• Enchanted. We saw it and it was wonderful. A truly feel-good movie. The best movie I've seen all year--with the exception of Ratatouille, and Pixar is in a class by itself. I highly recommend this movie for anyone.


• I got some good time with my brother. Growing up my brother was my best friend. I could talk about anything with him. Lately his visits home have been stilted at best, but we got some time talking in, just him and me and I have missed that. He told me he was proud of me and grateful to me for all the stuff I did for mom. He told me what a good job I did. I didn't realize how much I needed the words until he said them to me.


• Last night I saw a friend from high school that I hadn't seen in 10 years. It was wonderful. I can't wait to see he and his girlfriend again.


• My not-blood sister came over too and I was able to hug my newly 7-year old goddaughter and not burst out crying.


• Did I mention the truly amazing sex?


• We have found a discounted flight to England. I am inches away from booking it. (Can someone tell me WHY the taxes on this flight are more money than the flight?) I have to see our way clear to do it, but I think I am going to take this leap and book it.

So good out weighed the bad...and for that, I give thanks.