Kittah therapy

So the other day Niblet came up to me in the kitchen with a serious look on her face and said, "Mom, do you love Princess more than me?"  And of course I scooped her up and gave her the biggest tightest squeeze and told her she was my favorite girl in the whole wide world.  And while I was hugging her I bent down to surreptitiously stroke the cat which was nuzzling against my leg.

Because, you guys, this cat is fucking awesome.

I've never had a pet and this is a whole new world for me, taking care of a being that isn't an actual human.  Babies I can do, I know the drill.  Cats are diving into the unknown.  Husband is cracking up because I have this pictogram on my phone of cat tail positions and how they can tell you what your cat is feeling and I'm all "Look her tail is vibrating upright!" (happy) or "uh oh, her tail is wagging...." (bad).  In some ways it's taking me back to when Niblet was a colicky newborn.  Is that a pained cry or a burp me cry or a run the vacuum next to me cry?

And of course some of my maternal urges are sated right now because well, not to brag, but this kitty seems to have pegged me as her favorite. Clearly she can tell that I run the house.

And yes, I will now be one of those women who posts pictures of their cats everywhere they go.

Meet Princess

This is Princess. At roughly two years old, she is the newest addition to the casa de justonemore.  She is crazy sweet and soft.  We have one happy Niblet in our house.

Honesty and hope

While it's tough to live your life hoping for a miracle, it's even tougher, I think, to live eliminating hope.

Possibly I'm just not wired that way.  So much of what I do every day (I'm talking about my career) hinges on having enormous buckets of hope.

I spent an hour in my therapist's office yesterday crying about how I needed to try to give up any hope that I would get the outcome I need.  Because three years of actively trying to conceive and having nothing to show for it but heartbreak needed to end.  Because I need to protect Niblet from getting her hopes raised.  Because I am drained and scared of another horrible gutting outcome and isn't self-preservation smarter in the long-run?

But I sit here realizing that I am also being dishonest.  The tears are real, but they don't feel like me.  Debbie downer that I can be, I am generally one of the more hopeful people you'll come across.  I have hopes and dreams for peace for humanity that many people view as pollyana-ish and trite. 

Maybe I can take Niblet out of this equation.  Maybe I can keep plugging away at my supplements and vitamins, and yoga videos and wellness and exercise and acupuncture. Maybe I can still ensure that my husband and I are timing everything just right.  Maybe - just maybe - I can deliver a miracle. With a little hope.

Rewriting the ever after

Happily Ever After (HEA).  The phrase that conjure fairy tales and romance novels (my personal brand of crack).  My readers know that for many moons, my definition of the phrase would likely be a picture of me, holding a newborn baby in my arms. In my minds eye, the picture includes Niblet looking on in wonder.

Three years of losses and setbacks are forcing me to step back.  "Happily Ever After" - an unhealthy trope to begin with - is downright toxic if I connect it to my fertility.  I need to revisit what good ending to this story is.

What will the new picture look like?  Fuck if I know.  Niblet's happiness and health, along with my husband's were already a given in our HEA.  As I have noted many times, we have much to be thankful for already. But for so many years I held on to great hope that with a little luck and medical intervention, I could beat the odds.  That I would ultimately end up with a baby in my arms.  Now that I am trying to let go, I feel a little lost.  I mean, I can strive to improve upon my health so that I remain on this earth for my only daughter for as long as possible.  But is that it?  It feels odd seeking to just continue to exist.  One of the traps of infertility, I think, is that it is all so bench-marked and goal-oriented, even more so for us complicated cases.  Almost mathematical.

(Doctors) + (Surgeries) + (Take drugs) + (Hope for miracles) = (Baby).

It's a weird place to sit in, hoping for miracles without investing in the outcome of the equation. 

Maybe it is something like: (take supplements) + (hope for miracles) = (healthier existence). 

more on social media

Her name is Céline.  She is named after my favorite grandmother, who was french.  Her name happens to translate to heaven.  Sometimes, when I'm scrolling through facebook, I imagine what would happen if I shared it.... And then I realize that facebook can be a terrible place where subtleties and true empathy are often lost.  Her name is not to be "shared," or a superficially "liked" - I will never receive any words of condolences.  

And much as the activist in me struggles with this, the events leading to her loss aren't fodder for this particular forum of public consumption.  They're certainly not fodder for my 600 closest "friends" to stamp their opinions on social media about women's health and abortion rights in our country.  No, there will be no pointless "debate" on the heartbreaking situation we found ourselves in. 

Social media in the eyes of the greiving

#ferguson
my baby died.

#CharlieHebdo
my baby died.
 
"Guys, it's freezing out here (insert pictures of snow)"
my baby died.

Surprise pregnancy/birth announcement (insert ultrasound/baby pictures)
my baby died.

KITTENS
kittens are nice.....

a new day

The last few weeks have been sort of stagnant.  I haven't exercised enough, I have put on a couple of pounds, and I am developing these ridiculous sleep-interrupting hives in the middle of the night.  My acupuncturist suggests a liver cleanse because she believes that the hives are my liver's sad sack attempts at detoxifying.  Or they could be a reaction to all of the methyl vitamins I'm taking, but even so, I could use a little detox right now.

Generally I am more of a fan of cassoulets and stews during winter time (have I mentioned it is exactly 14 degrees out right now?)  But maybe something like the Master Cleanse would be good for me on all fronts.  You know, that concoction of lemon juice, cayenne pepper, maple syrup etc? I can't be a purist, there's no way I can sustain this diet for 10 days, but maybe there's a shorter variation of this I can work into my schedule.

On other fronts, Niblet turns 6 tomorrow.  Whoa.