Am I There Yet?

T is not pregnant.

I get these feeling sometimes. And for the past several days I have felt, strongly, that my infertile friend T is pregnant. She has her blood test today.

I can say that I'm happy for her and know that somewhere inside me, I am. But my overwhelming feeling is despair for myself. Disgusting, selfish, and hateful, I know. I don't want T not to be pregnant; I'm just afraid of being left all alone in this nightmare.

I am embarrassed to write any of this. But in order to change, I have to be honest. I really hate how infertility has brought out my true, selfish colors -- that my own happiness or unhappiness is paramount, even over those I care for. No matter what happens in the future, I do not want to be a bitter woman that cannot be happy for her friends. It galls me that I can have even the slightest hesitation to happy for T, who is a kind, caring person, and has been suffering for so long.

In light of this, I have decided something. I will be strong for 6 months. From now until February 3 (might as well make it until the day after Dawg's b-day), I will have faith, and positivity and courage about this baby issue, no matter what happens. No matter what information I receive -- a billion pregnancies, bad news from doctors -- I will stand firm in belief and faith that I can and will get pregnant.

When things are status quo, and yet I feel rocked, I will borrow a phrase from that tower of strength, GetupGrrl, and repeat to myself: Nothing Bad Has Happened Yet. Nothing Bad Has Happened Yet.

And if things do get rocky, I will repeat to myself these two biblical phrases:
(1) Psalms 27: 14-- "Trust in the Lord/Have Faith, do not despair/Trust in the Lord"; and (2) Psalms 31:24 "Be strong, be courageous, all you that hope in the Lord."

I'm too tired of moping and unhappiness. I simply must believe that it will all be okay. That I will get pregnant. That I will have a healthy child.

For 6 months, I will believe in miracles.

I was trying to think up a new positive, new title for this blog, and typed in "realizing your goals" into google. And what were the first two links to come up? "Realizing your adoption goals." Is this a sign? I'm beginning to think so.

A few weeks ago, I thought I received another sign. I woke up extremely depressed (surprise, surprise) one morning and went to the Tuilieries to feed the baby ducks. When I got there, the usual family of ducks was there - mom duck, dad duck, and four ducklings - but there were also two tiny, tiny ducklings that were all alone. They were so small, they looked like little yellow-brown cottonballs floating on the water. They kept very close together and never went anywhere near the family of ducks. Once, when they paddled too close to one of the bigger ducklings, the bigger ducklings chased them away. I stayed there watching them for an hour and a half, and no grown-up ducks came back to the little ones. They were on their own. My heart broke for these poor little things with no mama duck to take care of them. I felt very strongly that it was a sign. I called Dawg from the pool to tell him about the little ducks, and at first he was like - oh poor things. But then, he realized the symbolism and quickly changed the subject.

I am loathe to think that I cannot get pregnant. I have wanted to feel a baby kicking inside of me all of my life. I have always known that it was a miracle, and wanted so badly to have it happen to me. Everything I have done has been with an eye toward how this or that would affect my children. With each of my boyfriends, no matter how brief, I have tried to envision what kind of child the two of us would make. And now that I'm with Dawg, my husband, I want so badly to see the twinkle in his eyes in the eyes of our child. I want to look down at our baby and think - he and I made this beautiful person, together. I don't know if it'll ever happen. When I pray to God for a pregnancy, all I get back is stone-cold silence. But now, I'm wondering if He is beginning to speak. As it often is with God, He's saying something different from what I want to hear, but there have been many times in my life where I thought He had failed me, but it turned out He did the best thing possible.

Is this what is going on? Or I am just creating my own failure?

Today is one of those days where I can't stop crying.

Since writing positive things guarantees that they won't come true, and writing negative things guarantees that they will come true, then I might as well write what's in my heart:

I'm never going to be pregnant.

I'm never going to write this book.

I'm never going to feel like anything other than an utter and complete failure.

Why do I even bother to try?

When I started this blog, I called it: "Lola, Running: A Memoir of One Woman's Journey to...um...Something."

I liked this subtitle since it very accurately reflected how uncertain I felt about my future after quitting my job and embarking on two huge projects: the book project and the baby project. (Not to mention the learning French and German projects). I felt certain that, eventually, something positive and definitive would happen; that there would be a moment where I'd go - aha! This is the brilliant thing that I've been running toward all along! Fabulous! And then, I could stop running.

Sad to say, almost two years later, and I am still stumbling running headlong into blackness, and don't see any lights on the horizon. I am so tired, but don't see anywhere to rest. Every drop of my energy is devoted to picking myself up after getting bitch-slapped down by my period or other reproductive bad news. I am not in a good place. At all. I never would have dreamed that I'd be here -- nowhere's land, childless, purposeless -- for so long.

Yesterday, I made a decision. I'm putting the book aside for the moment. I realize that, right now, I am not emotionally strong enough to handle two overwhelming, lonely and frustrating projects. If I'm not upset about one, I'm upset about the other. Since the clock ticks on the baby project, it is the book that must step aside for the time being. The decision was hard and it makes me feel like a quitter, but I simply cannot self-motivate on two levels right now. Instead, I will concentrate on my short stories and essays. To write stories is almost instinctive for me. I'm hoping that now that I'm giving myself free reign to do it full-time, it will bring positive balance into my life.

Also, I've decided to that the title of this blog does not invite good karma. All this blind running. True, I do not know what the future holds, but I know what I want out of it. So here is my New Title: Am I there yet? My long, hard march to motherhood.

Note the definite destination.

So now, just so it's clear for anyone making decision-making powers in the universe out there, my goal is to become a mother. One way or another.

On May 17, 2005, I wrote: Why is it that I feel that if I put my bad thoughts in print they'll come true, but if I put good thoughts in print they won't?

Answer: Because that's what happens.

Last week, I started a new blog that I called "This (Really) Old House." It was to be about our adventures in restoring the old house that we've been looking to buy for the past few months. I started the blog shortly after we signed the promissory note. Then, I thought to myself -- wait. Don't start the blog before you actually own the house. You'll jinx everything. So I stopped writing in it.

Today, we learn from the agent that the owner of the house (a real unpredictable asshole by all accounts) has said he found another buyer for a higher price. Now mind you, he has given the real estate agency exclusive rights to sell the house. And he has also already agreed in writing to the price that we set. We have already signed the promissory note. And now, he pulls this. I knew something like this would happen. I just knew it.

The agency is furious. They are getting our notaire to draft a letter saying that if he backs out, he'll have to pay agency's fees, plus 10% of the negotiated purchase price to us. This would make it not worth his while to sell it to the other person. But, since he never signed the promissory note, will this hold up? I'm willing to spend lots of money to drag this into court, if need be. I want to make the man suffer.

I am feeling so fed up and furious with the universe. Positive energy is bullshit. At least for me. But negative energy is so tiring. Why can't things just go smoothly? Why is our best never good enough? I don't know what I can do to make anything better.

Boy, you couldn't make up some of the stuff that an infertile woman will go through to have a baby. Some days I just gotta laugh. Example: My friend T told me of a friend of hers whose acupuncturist recommended she put a seed in her ear and massage her ear at that point periodically throughout the day, saying that this will stimulate and tonify her uterus.

Let me repeat that: a seed in her ear. To wear and press periodically all day. To help her get pregnant.

T and I laughed hysterically. A seed! Forget sex! A seed is all we need!

Now I get my come-uppance for laughing. An acupuncturist has recommended to me that I should seek a practitioner of Chi Nei Tsang to improve the flow of blood to my uterus and ovaries. What is Chi Nei Tsang? Well, I'd never heard of it, so I looked it up. According to The Chi Nei Tsang Institute, CNT literally means "working the energy of the internal organs". Basically, it's a massage of your internal organs. The practictioner kneads your stomach and encourages the organs to work correctly, and releases unexpressed energy (or negativity?) harbored in the organs. Something like that.

Isn't this like putting a seed in your ear? Maybe. Did I care? Hell no! Within minutes after being told I needed CNT, I was busy researching CNT practicioners in France. Didn't even know what it was yet.

So, I spoke to the only CNT practictioner in Paris this evening (well, almost practictioner -- he's not licensed yet. But I'm not picky). He sounded very nice and warm. He told me more about CNT and how the organ would speak to him and tell him what it needed (or something like that), and how CNT can do some really amazing things for people. I was like - whatever. Bring it on.

We set up an appointment for a couple of weeks from now, and he gave me instructions for the meantime. My duties are these: to smile a lot during the day, and, at bedtime, speak "gentle words" to my uterus. I smiled right then and there.

But, sure enough, last night, I sat up in bed, smiled, and did my homework. I stroked my abdomen, played it Beethoven and whispered to my ute that it was a very good ute, and that it had to remain calm because it had an important job to do. I told it that a baby was coming soon and that it would have to keep that baby safe and comfortable for nine months. I kept it up for a good five minutes, and then, feeling surprisingly good and calm, I turned off the light and went to sleep.

Somewhere in the world, a woman with a seed in her ear is laughing.

Okay, that last post was just too negative. I'm in a moderate-to-low low right now because of that one step forward, two step back fertility dance I'm always doing. (Was supposed to have FET on Tuesday but period unexpectedly began on Day 19 - WTF??) But I just read some of my other posts - the one from the April from Hell, in particular, and I realize that many things have gone our way since that time.

For one thing, we did get the house. Or, at least, we agreed on a fairly reasonable price, and have signed the Compromise de Vente (promissory note). Now we wait to see if the crazy owner will sign.

Another good thing that happened is that Dawg got *more* than his full bonus. So, we have the money to buy the house and do some of the more immediate repairs, like patch the holes in the roof. We might take out a loan next year for the other works.

Also, here's an astonishing bit of luck: Our landlords lowered our rent. Amazing, is it not? When I realized that in order to afford the house, we'd have to move out of our beloved apartment, Dawg called our landlords to give them the requisite 3 month notice. They were upset because it is an expensive apartment and there aren't many people out there who can afford to pay what we do. Even with 3 months notice, they might not be able to find someone, especially in the summer. Plus, we're very good tenants who always pay on-time, take care of the property, and -- this is important -- we are not French. French tenants, you see, are aware that the laws are very much in their favor, and that even if they don't pay rent for years and years, it can be difficult for the landlords to boot them out. Our landlords know what they have with us. So, they asked at what price would we be willing to stay. Dawg gave them a quote. A day later they called us back & offered the apartment at Dawg's price, which was 20% less than we originally paid. So, we didn't have to move. Incredible.

And I got a short story published! Or at least, it will be published come August. It's an old story which I always called "The Stupidest Man In The World," which I shorted to "Really Stupid" for submission. I am thrilled about that. What a boost!

Finally, the best news of all: My mother's cancer, so far as anyone can tell, has not spread. At the end of April, the tests had shown a smidgen in her lymph nodes. A second surgery was schedule, and we were all on pins and needles (this, mind you was while I was stimming for the IVF cycle). But, thank You God, when they removed more lymph nodes, they didn't see any more traces of cancer. So, she has to do seven weeks of radiation and then will take hormone pills for 5 years. This is now her last week of radiation. I went home for two weeks to spend time with her. It was fantastic being at home and, for the first time since I moved to France, wasn't at all ready to come back.

Wow. Writing about all this certainly made me feel better. No, none of it makes up for what I'm missing. But it has made life much easier.

Bravo, God!

I haven't written in awhile because I haven't seen the point. My life is in an indefinite holding pattern, with moderate highs and jaw-dropping lows. Sounds like interesting fluctuation? No, not really. The highs and lows are always exactly the same.

When I'm on a high, I'm taking care of my body, eating lots of vegetables, writing daily, and feeling warmly certain that, one of these days, I'll fall pregnant and have a healthy baby. I enjoy my family and friends and can forget -- for minutes at a time! -- about the gaping absence in my life. Highs are fleeting, rarely lasting more than two consecutive days. Sometimes less than two consecutive hours.

Then there are lows. Well. On those days, I feel as if I am made of solid stone. Getting out of bed requires an unbelievable amount of willpower. You see, unlike most people, I don't really have to get up in the mornings. No boss is waiting for me. No colleague will have to cover for me. I will not miss a deadline. I can lie in bed, being the Incredible Stone Woman That Cries Real Tears, all day long if I like. There's nothing harder than getting up when you feel you have no reason to get up, and you really don't. Of course, there's my book. That's supposed to be reason for me to get up. But when I'm low, the book seems like a stupid idea that will never work. It's nothing more than another reminder of my mediocrity and penchant for failure.

Lows can last for weeks.

Most of the time, I am a moderate low. I can get out of bed. I can enjoy a blue sky. I can work on my writing. I can giggle with friends. But, all the while, I am aware of a dark weight on my heart, perched there like some horrible creature I cannot get rid of.