Category Archives: depression

Screw You, December

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So, it’s been a long, depressing December for me.

Our friends younger sister died suddenly.

My grandfather died. On my birthday.

Less than a week later, my Grammy moved away.

I only just started my Christmas shopping today and still need to wait for my pay to come in to finish it.

I really thought that December was hard enough on me.

You thought it too soon Kim.

You should know better.

 

Then I get my call back to work 4 months early and I thought I might have something good to lift me out of this all consuming sadness and complete lack of Christmas spirit.

Then yesterday I had an appointment with my OBGYN, the awesome Dr. D, to go over the results of my husbands Semen Analysis. She went over all of my testing first and reminded me how good my blood work and tests were. I should have known that that was a buffer for the news to come.

After that, she broke down his test. Two years ago, his count was 250,000 per ml. This time, his count was up to 3 million, but 90% of those 3 million aren’t moving. She has little hope of us ever getting pregnant on our own. She wants to refer us to another urologist to have Chris checked out again. While it isn’t the end of the world, while coupled with the rest of this shit month, it totally gutted me. Our options are clear, if we want to have children of our own, we need to either look at IUI with donor sperm or IVF with ICSI. Which currently, with no coverage in our province, would be entirely out of pocket and completely out of the question financially for the remainder of my baby making years.

So it destroyed me. My hopes of maybe finally getting a break in this almost 6 year long struggle was shot down in one effing test result. We don’t know what steps we want to or can take now, but I’m not ready to sit down and hash out our options just yet. Now, I just want to mourn the loss of ever having my husbands biological child. I spent all of yesterday in bed either crying or sleeping. My mom forced me out today to go shopping. I had a Christmas party tonight and went. But there was no Christmas cheer. I tried to play the part but its hard.

The only thing keeping me going is that I’m waiting for my test results for the government test I wrote on Friday. My opinion of the world is pretty low right now, so I’m pretty much just waiting for the failure to show up in letter form, even though everyone else who knows about the test thinks that I passed it with flying colors. But if we are being honest, my track record hasn’t been the best this year and I don’t expect it to change. Plus, you know, pity party for one here…

I just want December to be over.

I’m so freaking over this month.

2014 has not been kind to me and I’m just ready to start a new year fresh. Hopefully on a better note.

Why We Need To Talk About Robin Williams Death

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Robin taught me to laugh. From a young age I saw him as the genie and grew to love him in movies and in shows. Once I was older, mom introduced me to Mork and Mindy. I watched him in Dead Poets Society, Mrs. Doubtfire, Jumanji, and Aladdin just to name a small few. He made me happy when I was sad.

Robin is mourned by so many because he touched so many lives. Many of us grew up with him and others are passing his work onto their children. But because he is loved by so many, this gives the public a chance to really open up about the reason why he died. The terrible responses in regards to his death and struggle have already started. While other have already started discussing the reality of depression.  We need to talk about depression and suicide and I’m willing to start this discussion.

If you’ve ever read an article, interview or watched his standup act, he made no effort to really hide his struggle with depression and substance abuse. Robin ended his life because he saw no way out. Someone, anyone, who commits suicide truly sees no way out of their deep hole of misery and emptiness. You would have to be so consumed by depression that you could no longer find the fight to keep living to actually take your own life.

Here’s the thing about depression. You can’t force yourself out of it. You can’t pray your way out of it. You have no control over the feelings. Depression is poorly named. The spectrum on depression runs from having the blahs for an extended period of time to the extreme of not being able to function. And yet when people hear depression, they always expect the lower end of the spectrum with no real knowledge of the extreme. In truth, its brushed off. It’s seen as something you can ‘get past’ or you can ‘shake it off’. While for some, this is the case, for most, it truly isn’t the case.

How do I know this? Because not only do I suffer from bouts of depression, but my husband suffers from severe depression, anxiety and panic disorders. My husband has had suicidal thoughts. I’ve had to listen to my husband in his lowest moments admit to me and the nurses at an ER in the middle of the night that he’s had suicidal thoughts. I’ve had to listen to a nurse ask him if he ‘made a plan’ without batting an eyelash, as if that was the next logical question. Which when you think about it, it really is the next logical question. It broke me. The first thing I wanted to ask is, am I not enough to keep you happy? Is living with me so bad? I instantly went to me and what I was doing wrong, but I wasn’t doing anything wrong, and neither was he. He has a chemical imbalance that affects all areas of his life. It has nothing to do with how happy I make him. He loves me. He loves our life. I know that he loves me more than words can express. I’ve been told that sometimes the only reason he keeps fighting is because of me and his all consuming love for me. But this chemical imbalance in his brain makes it hard for him to sometimes do basic things like getting up out of bed and getting dressed, hanging out with friends or even talking. These basic functions are sometimes impossible during what I call a low spell, an attack or an episode. So while I get mad because he won’t talk to me, the truth is that he can’t. He truly can’t and there is nothing either of us can do to fix it.

Our own infertility diagnosis doesn’t help it at all. In fact, it adds to his depression. It is the main trigger for my own bouts of depression. And when I say depression, I don’t mean having the blahs. I mean crying constantly, shutting down almost completely and not getting out of bed for days on end.

My husband is thankfully doing so much better than that night. That was his rock bottom. Now his medication has been readjusted, just as it will be readjusted for the rest of his life. We finally found a psychologist that was willing to do anything other than just medicate him until he was numb. We had to go outside of our mental health system around here. We pay out of pocket, but its worth it. He goes to physio once a week to help build his muscle strength back up. This winter was hard, extreme depression and a lot of low points coupled with a change in diet had my husband drop over 100 pounds. The physio helps his body while the psychologist helps his mind. He still has bad days, but the days aren’t quite as bad and it doesn’t last for quite as long. He’s committed to fight and I’m so proud. His end goal? To be a dad and to be able to enter the work force again and become a functional member of society. He has no grand schemes, he wants to be healthy and active again.

~~~

The reason we need to talk about Robin’s death and about depression and suicide in general is that people don’t talk about depression until someone famous dies from it. Mental Health in our country is in shambles. No one wants to talk about it and no one will recognize that this is becoming a major problem. Since it is not a physical injury, its hard to get ER doctors and nurses to take it seriously. They won’t really do anything unless you admit to trying to hurt yourself or others. Since they have no physical booboo to fix, they suggest that you go home and come back to see someone from Crisis in the morning since they only keep 9-5 operation hours. Because no one tries to kill themselves at 3 am. That’s foolishness. You can have yourself committed, but once in there, they will drug you to numb everything instead of dealing with the issue head on.

Funding and resources easily available to the public are desperately needed for mental health. I know, myself and my mother in law have begged doctors, nurses, helplines for help. What we get in return in a run around of  “we don’t deal with that, see this person”. We need more resources and doctors and nurses willing to take it seriously and treat it.We shouldn’t have to wait months for a referral to a psychologist just to have a 15 minute appointment and them suggest that you take drugs to numb yourself instead of addressing the issue and finding ways to cope and manage with the condition.  Someone dealing with severe depression needs to see professionals who specialize in depression regularly, not every 3 months. They need proper SSRI’s to deal with the chemical imbalances. They need to talk to psychologists. They need to know they have support. They need to know that medical professionals are taking them seriously.

~~~

Robin was not weak.

He simply fought so hard and for so long that he simply couldn’t fight anymore. Someone dealing with debilitating depression has to either fight through it everyday or let it take them over. Robin fought til he couldn’t fight anymore. The act itself was selfish in so much that it was something he did to himself, but he wasn’t selfish. He did not do this for attention, he did this because he was suffering and couldn’t handle it anymore.

Now a family who watched him fight for so long have to learn to live without him. To Robin’s wife and 3 children: I send love, light and peace during this heart breaking time. And know that he didn’t end his life because he doesn’t love you, he no doubt loved you more than life itself. He just simply couldn’t fight anymore.

If you or someone you know is suffering from depression or may have thoughts of suicide, please seek medical attention. You are not weak for feeling this way. People can help you. Go to your doctor, an emergency room or call a suicide prevention hotline.

Click here for a list of Canadian National List of hotlines and websites.

Click here for links to International information and support lines.

Suicide should never be the answer. But lets not let what Robin and others like him did, be in vain. Let’s talk about it. Let’s make mental health an important issue. Let’s show the world that dealing with this does not make you weak. Let’s fight for the resources so desperately needed. Let’s fight for those that can’t fight for themselves.

~~~

The academy posted a picture after the news of Robin’s death hit the media. I cry every time I see it. They sum it up in one heart wrenching image:

 

Yes genie, you’re free.

Rest easy Robin. May you finally find peace.

 

Not As Strong As I Look

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I’ve never been one to make a big deal out of New Years. I tried to last year by hosting a party that no one showed up to. I rang in 2013 crying, upset and completely let down by everyone around me. This seemed to be the general theme of 2013. I lost my push to write. My cat died. The day my cat died was my last day on my casual rotation at work so I left the vet to go directly to work where I simply survived the shift and my exit interview. My husbands health was poor. I watched as most of my husbands friends just forgot about him, had no time for him. I watched my husband give up on his friends because you can only get turned down or not invited to events for so long before you get the hint. It was hard to watch my husband sit here and admit that he has no real friends because the people he trusted the most stopped communicating with him, won’t return his calls or get together to do anything. At one point we were a one income home. I was in and out of depressions all year. Depressed about our infertility, money, my lack of sex life because infertility has killed our sex drive. I’ve had friends snap at me for reasons I don’t quite understand and for their own messed up reasons that had nothing to do with me. I’ve snapped at friends and family. I’ve been ignored. I’ve had family become non existent to me because of shit that has nothing to do with either of us. I’ve cried. A lot. Emotionally, I’ve been lost and the last couple of months, I’ve been coasting through what was left of the year on fumes.

Then to finish off the year, on Sunday my grandfather took a mini stroke. After confirming what it was, they sent him home. There’s nothing they can do for him. He’s 87. His health problems are finally catching up to him. He’s no longer jumping back like he has for the past 2 years. His body is slowly starting to shut down. While at the hospital, we were talking and its clear that hes entering his endgame. We don’t know how long he has, but his moves are starting to run out. I would do anything to make him healthy again, to ease this pain for him. I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but I hope he passes in his sleep before this drags out anymore than it has and he suffers more.

So it’s no surprise that I’m ready for this year to end. 2013 was not kind to me. It could’ve been worse, but really, you could say that to anyone still living. Anything short of dying and you can use that “it could’ve been worse”. But regardless, I hated 2013.

Of course there were some high points. We got a new cat. We spent our first year in our home. I got my foot in the door with a government job that could lead to further call backs and maybe even a more permanent job with them. My thyroid levels finally went back to normal. I found my true friends and I can say that I know what its like to have absolute complete faith in a friend. I loved. I got another year with my grandparents. I laughed. I finished my first year as a Brownie leader and watched my first group of girls move onto Girl Guides. I attended my first Brownie camp and my first Guider Conference.

It wasn’t all bad. But it hasn’t been enough to end this year on a high point.

I’m not one to make resolutions, or make a “best of” list. I wish people a Happy New Year only when its wished to me first. I don’t put much stock in any gods or higher powers. I put my faith in what’s physically in front of me, in the people who never let me down, who love me, who see past my strong front, my temper and my bad attitude. The ones who know when I need them before I even know. The ones who call me on my shit and in the next breath defend and protect me. In that case, I’m a very lucky girl. And I’ll use that to push me through the start of 2014.

Good riddance 2013. I can’t say that I’ll miss you.

2014, please be kind. I’m not as strong as I look.

Thoughts On Turning 31

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So I’m a mere 7 days (and 16 minutes- not that I’m counting) to my 31st birthday as of me writing this. I’d like to say that I’m excited for it, but I’d be lying.

Normally, I’m the giddy birthday girl. Excited to have a day where those I care about and love make me feel special. I’m a bit vain. I love celebrating my birthday. I love getting gifts, cake and a chorus (or two) of happy birthday. I don’t want all the attention all of the time, but I want it on days that are clearly important to me…like birthdays. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that though. Some people love it, some are indifferent while others downright can’t stand it. My husband is of the can’t stand it camp so he has a hard time understanding my need for attention on my birthday. Or our anniversary. Or Christmas. Or any other holiday or special date. Seriously.

I’ve never been afraid of aging. My friend turned 30 in September and she had a rough couple of months before she hit 30 and she had a really, really bad couple of days surrounding her 30th birthday. Six month earlier, I welcomed 30 like an old friend. A surprise birthday party a week before we moved into our house. We partied in my half packed up apartment. My party was such a surprise to me that they all came into the apartment to surprise me to find me napping on the couch because to the best of my knowledge, my friend was coming over to give me a mani and pedi. In TV surprise parties, you walk in and they turn on the lights and everyone jumps out to say SURPRISE! My birthday though, everyone walked in with everything needed for the party, said SURPRISE and I didn’t budge so they had to shake me awake and in my still mostly asleep daze as I searched for my glasses they gave me a second chorus of SURPRISE while I processed the 10 or so people there. There was a lopsided cake made with love from my friends, alcohol and music from my teen years. We ate cake, hung over and I nursed a hangover the next morning. It was a great 30th birthday.

This year though, its a completely different story. For the first time in my almost 31 years, I’m absolutely dreading my birthday.

A couple of weeks ago, I hit a bad spell. Like a really bad spell. An emotional mess that left my husband shaking his head. He didn’t know how to help me. He tried every trick he had. I wouldn’t talk to him, and when I did acknowledge him it lead to tears and outbursts. I snapped at the smallest thing. Finally one day I hit my breaking point. I broke down and cried in my porch as I was getting ready to go out. I finally admitted to myself and Chris that I couldn’t stand the standstill that I found myself in. We first visited our fertility clinic when I was 29. They told me that there was no real rush to get everything under control because I still had so much time before I hit that advanced maternal age of 35. I was annoyed but my thyroid levels were resting somewhere up in the stratosphere and I knew it wouldn’t be fixed overnight. But here I am, weeks away from my 31st birthday and we are still fighting with my thyroid levels and I still have no treatment options. I have no direction and each day is harder than the last. I ache for a child of my own, I ache to have direction, to have options, to have someone other than me to take this seriously. I tend to be vocal about our struggles, but this time I felt the need to hide and protect it. Cause who really wants to listen to my sob story anymore? I’ve been told as much from some people. So, feeling particularly vulnerable, I hid it away. It built up. That coupled with the fact that I’m suddenly one year closer to that evil age, that age that I move into a new category of childbearing (or at least attempting childbearing) and I just didn’t know how to process it.

So once I admitted the reason behind my breakdown, I just left and did what I had to do. I went to darts because I couldn’t stay home anymore. What I didn’t know was that my husband called my best friend. He felt helpless, so he called the one other person he knew could help me and really understand it on a level not even he can grasp. She also happened to be heading to darts and walked in after me. The rest of the group knew I was in an off mood so they were understanding and were nice but gave me space, but as soon as she walked in and I saw her face, I knew that she was talking to my husband. I like to sometimes call them It and Dit sometimes. They always seem to know how to fix me and they get along far better than anyone would expect a friend and a spouse would expect. But of course, I couldn’t talk to her without crying so she just sat next to me. Afterwards, her and her husband came down to visit and they just let me be me. The boys played video games while we hung out. She let me process what I needed to and let me finally give everything a name and let it out.

So now, despite feeling better, I’m still sick to my stomach about turning 31. Different groups of friends are asking me what I would like to do for my birthday. They keep making suggestions for supper, a house party, a game night with cake, and one friend (an esthetician) even told me to clear my schedule for the day before my birthday because she wants to treat me to a mani and pedi at the shop she works at. (Did I ever tell you that I have the best friends ever? Cause I do. I really, really do.) My mom plans on taking me shopping and going out for supper. My husband is finally listening to my years of telling him that my birthday is important and wants to do something and needs ideas. I ran into a friend tonight and she’s been asking me for weeks if I want to get together for my birthday and I keep on pushing it off. It’s to the point that people are worried. Yet I can’t even give them ideas. All I want is to freeze time at 30 until I have a child in my arms, maybe two if I’m lucky enough and then move on with time. But none of them can do that, so instead I’m finally getting what I always wanted for my birthday and this year I don’t want any of it. I just want it to be forgotten. Irony? I have it.

I really hate not enjoying my birthday. I hate that infertility has tarnished just one more thing I love despite my best efforts to keep the damage localized.

I don’t want to be damaged goods anymore.

Is that too much to ask?

Sometimes, Hubby Gets It Right

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So I had a bit of a break down tonight.

Nothing major, just your average everyone-has-a-kid-but-me-and-my-doctors-won’t-return-my-phone-call-with-my-blood-test-results-and-I’m-out-of-synthroid-and-I’ll-never-be-a-mom type of breakdown.

Coming home from an event today with my mother, she proceeded to tell me all about how much my father likes my brothers “it’s getting serious” girlfriend and her son. She likes to remind me over and over again how much my father is smitten with her son and how they get along so great and have so much fun together. Then mom goes on about planning their Christmas gifts in great detail and asking for my opinion on her ideas. She doesn’t even put this much thought into the rest of our Christmas gifts.

For some reason, this was my tipping point for the day. I went very quiet. So quiet that my mother noticed. So when she finally dragged it out of me that I was upset because I felt like no one cared and it seemed that it didn’t matter to them if I ever get to be a mom. My mother told me not to be so dramatic and told me that we could always adopt. Thanks mom. Thanks for making me feel even more like shit. Your husband lives away for work, maybe you should just divorce him because its not as easy as a relationship where you spouse comes home everyday after work. Same difference? Right? Then she has the nerve to say to me, “I’ve clearly said something to upset you but I don’t know what I said. I’m sorry. Please calm down.” But I’m sorry. I can’t. She told me that she really understands what I’m going through. (Sorry mom, you don’t have a clue.) And then I told her as much. You don’t get it because you never struggled to have me and Mike. You don’t know the emptiness. You don’t know what it’s like to watch your one dream realized by everyone around you while you are questioned by others because of the absence. Well meaning questions enquiring about my lack of children like its any of their fucking business, like there’s not years of dreams shattered and hope lost. You don’t know how to live with this life everyday when the only thing you ever wanted, even as a child, was to be a mom. You don’t know what it’s like to wait for phone calls from doctors and to never actually get the call. You’ve never begged or cried to a secretary out of sheer frustration and emotional burnout. You’ve never wondered where money for treatments was going to come from. You never had to consider living without your children, ever, for even one moment.

So I left in frustration and pain. I ignored her calling from the step. I ignored her calls and texts on my drive home and I called her back long enough to tell her I’m not fine and I may never be fine, especially if I have to live this much longer. Then I called my clinic. Because as much as that secretary rocks, she can’t give me my blood results. Only a doctor or nurse can. And she arranged to have someone call me on Thursday. They didn’t call. I called on Friday and she promised a call by end of day. She called me a half hour before end of day to tell me that the doctor left without calling me and that she arranged to have him come in on a Saturday just to call me with the results because my prescription ran out and I won’t refill it if they are gonna change my dosage anyway. Guess what? He didn’t fucking call, again. I called while upset (I know, bad idea), and left a voicemail clearly letting my wonderful secretary know that I wasn’t called again, I’m out of pills, refilled it at my own cost(all out of pocket) and that if my dosage changes, I’ll have to pay all of it out of pocket…again. She’s gonna be as pissed as I am and she’ll have it resolved within the first 10 minutes of her shift. Too bad the rest of the staff wasn’t as on the ball as she was.

So I went in the house and cried. Really cried. A long messy cry while my husband tried to figure out what was wrong. Once he realized what was wrong, he tried to fix it. When he couldn’t fix it, he did something right. He called my best and oldest friend, my friend who is also dealing with infertility. He put up the proverbial bat signal without my knowledge while I was in the bathroom.

I came out of the bathroom still crying and he hugged me. Then she was there behind me and when I turned around, she took over. She hugged me and cried with me and just held me. I didn’t have to explain it to her, she didn’t require it. No act, no being strong, just release. And then we talked in partial sentences. I’d start a thought and she finished it. I didn’t have to explain how I was feeling, just the details of what happened.

Then we started talking about other things. Then suddenly, we started laughing and it was the first real time I’ve laughed in a long time. I wasn’t better, but she helped me escape for a bit. It was wonderful. After her and her husband went home, I thanked my own husband. He did good.

I’m not better, I’m not back to normal, but it helped. I got to release a bit of the pressure so I could go on. All I want is to get through Monday, and now maybe, I might just be able to do that.

Hubby, you did good today.

Thanks.

A Breakdown At Work

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You know what guys and gals? I’ve been having a rough week.

It’s been a rough July and a rough start to August if I’m being truly honest, but it seemed to hit its brink the other night.

I’ve been quite proud of myself lately. I’ve been able to detach myself from our struggles with infertility. I’m in another six week wait while I wait for the time I can go through my blood work again to see if my thyroid has finally gotten its act together and went back to normal. So really there’s not much I can do.

I’ve transitioned out of my bitter, angry infertile stage over the past year. Four years of being constantly angry and bitter was apparently my breaking point and I’ve transitioned into a calmer but still frustrated infertile. I like to think about it by comparing it to waxing. Waxing for the first time is a bitch and you are red raw afterwards. But the more you do it, the more you build up a tolerance for it. I’ve developed a thick skin at this point. Not just with the waxing, but with infertility in general. I’ve let other things keep me busy. I have less bad days. I can handle reading about pregnancies and I can even congratulate people now. I’ve spent a lot of my summer so far doing couples things with another IF couple and its been great to have kid free stuff to do. But when I do have a bad IF day, its BAD. I guess thats the down side to this transition. I passed in all my slightly bad emotional days for a handful of really, really bad breakdown days. One of these days happened at the worst possible time. At work.

Generally work is fun (believe it or not). We have a great group of people who laugh and joke and get along wonderfully. We range in age and lifestyle. Some are moms and grand moms, the lone male in our room is so young he’s fresh out of university and we refer to him as “the puppy” or “Justin Beiber” even though he looks and acts nothing like the crazy Canadian pop star (yeah, as a Canadian, sorry about unleashing that on the world, we didn’t really have a say in it.) A couple of the woman, I’ve grown particularly close to and tomorrow is the last day of their casual cycle and they are off til the new year. Another girl, closer to me in age is staying in her spot while I’m moving over to the other building with the rest of the remaining team. When I say that we’ve gotten close, I mean that we added each other on Facebook, are on the lookout for things we mentioned to each other, and I’ve told them that we are dealing with infertility after they inquired why we don’t have kids yet and they haven’t treated me differently and in some cases, have asked about it.

But yesterday, as I was joking with some of my coworkers over something silly during lunch, I was scrolling through my Facebook news feed to pass he time and all I see is nothing but parents complaining about their children. Earlier that day and earlier this week, I listened to other staff in the building complaining about their children and for some reason, at that moment during lunch, it was like a tidal wave of pain hit me. I had no warning. Tears streaming down my face, trying not to sob or draw attention to myself, I couldn’t get up and go cry in the bathroom because there would be no way to hide my face and if my coworkers saw me in that state, they are the type of people to follow me, concerned, to make sure I was ok. I was embarrassed by the breakdown. I went from giddy and laughing to emotional mess with absolutely no warning. I felt the emotional toll this was having on me along with the financial toll as wave after wave of pain hit me. Ever since, I’ve been somber, depressed and completely scared of what may never happen. It’s been making work…difficult at best. My concentration is absolutely shot and I’m fighting to get through the work that is normally a breeze for me. My mind is suddenly entirely focused on one thing, our infertility.

It’s been 4 years and we are still doing basic testing. I don’t even know my treatment options yet. How much longer do I have to wait for those? Let alone treatment and the possibility of it actually working.

And now? My period is late. Like 15 days late when I know with absolute certainty that I’m not pregnant because 1. According to tests, I haven’t been ovulating for awhile despite getting my period in the past. 2. It’s been a long time since we last had sex. 3. I’ve been so stressed with everything that I’ve lost my sex drive. (If found please return to me directly, thanks.) 4. Did I mention that its been a long time since we last had sex? Cause I actually don’t remember when unless I check my iPeriod app.

I’m just tired of the pain, of all of this. I just want the only thing I ever dreamed of doing in my life: being a mom.

Somber Holidays For Two

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I have to admit something. I’ve always hated Easter. Ok not always, but once I grew up enough to stop believing in an oversized bunny bringing me chocolate and new pjs, I grew to dislike the holiday. It’s no surprise really. This holiday belongs to two distinct groups, those with children and those that are holy. And let’s face it, we are neither. I’ve already talked at length about my lack of belief in any religious organization and this is an infertility blog so we all know that I have no children.

Other holidays are easier. Christmas is so open to interpretation that anyone can celebrate it, children or not. Traditions can be made whether you have children or not. You can choose how you celebrate it. New Year’s can be spent at a party, at home or you can sleep right through it. Valentine’s Day can be celebrated or not. (In our almost 10 years together, this year was the first time we acknowledged it beyond buying pizza and discount heart shaped chocolate on February 15th). Halloween is for anyone young at heart. There are a good mix of adult and child activities and if you want to avoid kids, you can go out for the night or stay in with a movie and leave the candy on the step for kids to help themselves. Labor Day is a special weekend because it always lands on or near our wedding anniversary. St. Patrick’s Day is just a normal day for me because I’ve lost my taste for alcohol and bars. Mother’s Day and Father’s Day can sting, but as long as you put some effort into wishing your parents a happy day, you can hide out or go out with friends who don’t have kids for the rest of the day. You can fake sick if its really that hard. But Easter is different.

For instance, Easter weekend in a small town is inconvenient. It’s a long weekend. Good Friday, Easter Sunday and Easter Monday. Everything in a small town closes on Good Friday. While I try to just not acknowledge it, I forgot that we were finally at the long weekend. I had a birthday party to go to tonight and I had to make something for it. I knew I had to get to the grocery store for supplies but couldn’t make it on Thursday. So I get up Friday morning to go get the supplies to realize that the whole damn town has shut down short of the 24 hour gym, Tim Horton’s, the gas station and the local convenience store. So even though I don’t recognize any faith, I’m forced to change my plans to acknowledge a holiday I don’t believe in and now pay double for my supplies at the convenience store.

Then I get hit with the flip side of the holiday too. My husband just had to go to the mall today to pick up supplies for a project and I spend most of my afternoon getting pushed around, cut off and cursed at by people who waited until the last minute to get their shopping done for their kids and are treating the holiday like the second coming of Christmas, buying far too many expensive gifts. (And while we are on the topic, can someone tell me what the hell happened to the one nice outfit, a pair of pjs, a chocolate bunny and some outdoor gifts like skipping ropes and road chalk? Now a days kids are getting iPads for easter?!? WTF?) All I needed today was pretzels. And then all week, all day today and right through until I started this post, I’ve been slammed with pictures of kids with the Easter bunny, kids painting eggs, the parents showing off that “the Easter bunny landed” and look at all the gifts my kid is getting. Then all day tomorrow, any and all social media will be covered with pictures and videos of kids reacting to the stash of gifts waiting for them. Parents going on about how wonderful their children are and how great the Easter bunny was to them and wishing everyone a happy Easter. All the while, everything is closed, there is no where to go and if you watch TV at all tomorrow the channels will be covered in Easter masses. My father and brother are away, hubby is going to his parents for supper and I’ll go up to visit mom for supper because I don’t want her to be alone. After that I’ll go to the gym for an extra long workout because there is simply nothing else for me (us) to do. All I’m left with is a feeling of emptiness while I twiddle my thumbs waiting for businesses to open again and the world to go back to normal.

For someone who is not religious, I find Easter to be one of the loneliest holidays in the calendar year. Every year, I question my purpose. I truly fear that we will never get to feel any happiness, that we will never get to help our children color Easter eggs or get pictures with the Easter bunny. That we will never get to do any of the things that I watch my friends and family do every single year. I feel empty and incomplete. I see the mountain that we still have yet to climb and wonder if its even feasible. It feels like we spent 4 years circling the base of that mountain with no progress to show for it. Can we afford treatment? What if something is truly wrong on my end too? What if we can’t get a resolution to this? What if I don’t get to be a mom? How do I move forward? While everyone is watching their children open gifts and find hidden eggs, I cry myself through these questions over and over again until I just break down. It’s not like there is anything else for me to do. If we go out to eat, our options are family buffets. There is nowhere to go to keep ourselves busy. Even going for a walk results in watching kids play outside with their spring toys like road chalk or skipping ropes. We could go to a church for a faith we don’t believe in just to be surrounded by families dressed in their Sunday best. Honestly, Easter is simply not a holiday made for 2. Yet we are stuck in limbo.

Honestly? The main point to my trip to the mall with hubby was for us to find a new board game. Since none of our friends could hang out with us tomorrow because of family obligations, we decided to find a two player game that we could spend all our time tomorrow learning to play. Anything to avoid the emptiness of the day. To not feel so detached from the rest of the world. I look forward to a time when we have children running around, waiting for the Easter bunny. I just hope that someday we can actually have that. I just don’t know how many more Easter mornings we can take living childless. I just want this feeling of emptiness to disappear.

Venting My Frustrations & Irrational Thoughts

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I have a confession to make. I’m become that hermit lady that hates leaving the house. In becoming this hermit lady, I’ve also find myself becoming completely detached from my friends, family and loved ones. All of them. The last time I spent any time with my friends was Brownies on Thursday. Before that, it was long before Chris’s grandfather passed away. And in some ways, if I’m being honest, I’m a little disappointed in some of my friends (though I’m sure I’ve disappointed them at some point as well). Many were quick to message me and passed on their condolences to Chris and his family, either through facebook/my family/or text messages, but some that I expected to hear from because they are the first to be at every wake and funeral, or at least rush to pass on condolences to people they know or know through friends or family, didn’t even bother to message Chris or ask me to pass on condolences to him. And Chris’s friends? Let’s not even go there. They knew, some messaged, but not one of his friends stopped by the funeral home or came to the funeral. It was a little disheartening. I’m sure that there are reasons, and I’ll move past it and everything will be fine, but for right now, I’m a little hurt and hoped for a bit more support for him and us, you know?

Also, while I don’t think the above reason is the cause, but if I’m honest it probably plays a part in it, I’m left feeling completely out of the loop and with no initiative to actually get back into the loop. I know that most, if not all, of this is in my head. But I feel like I’m the odd woman out. I know I’ve been antisocial as of late, but still, no one calls or checks in anymore except for a couple of people I’m seeing due to the few things that I’m forcing myself to do (Brownies and Darts being the exceptions).

I know I have a lot of stress going on in my life lately. I got hit with a terrible head cold. I fought with my parents for the past month over things dad said that I truly can’t bring myself to write about, but has left me utterly brokenhearted wishing for something to change. My husband and father will not stay in the same room together and I love them both but I’m somehow just left feeling uncomfortable. I feel like I have to choose and how does one choose between your spouse and the father that suddenly hates him. How do I not take that personal? The tension from this fallout is EVERYWHERE in my life. I’m dealing with Chris being sick and getting back on track mentally. Let’s not even talk about how long its been since we last had sex. Chris’s grandfather passed away. We are waiting on both our employment insurance claims to come in and still worrying about money on a daily basis. We are moving on the 8th and while everyone was willing to help and offered help months ago, only my cousin and Chris’s best friend and his girlfriend have actually offered to help us move in and asked what we need help wise. My 30th birthday is creeping up and it’s finally starting to scare me. I’m scared because I’m then in that category of pregnant after 30. I wanted to be a mom by 30, maybe pregnant with #2 by 30. I went from being excited of turning 30 to being absolutely scared shitless of turning 30 wondering if I’ll ever get to have kids, if I’ll be the only old mom at the schools if we are ever lucky enough to have kids. And I wonder if my parents will even do anything with me this year for my birthday or just go to a hockey game without me like they did last year (I’m still waiting for them to take me out for that birthday supper they promised). Then on Saturday, I got a toothache that just kept getting worse to the point that I got one hour of sleep last night and had an emergency appointment at the dentist this morning where he had no choice but to take the tooth out.To top that all off, I’m getting hit with a severe case of the holiday blahs.

I feel like we are at a standstill even though we are not. This is the first time I’m waiting on my body to do its thing so I can start my testing. But still, every time I venture out into the outside world, I feel like the odd one out at almost every gathering. I’m not happy and its hard to play happy. I want to be there with them, to enjoy it, but depression has me just trying to survive the time with people I care about and love, knowing that if I make it through I can go home and reward myself with curling up in bed with a good cry.

Most of my friends have children and families. Those that don’t have children, either aren’t ready for them and/or they have a family that’s not fighting/hating each other and nieces and nephews that they can spoil. I normally love Christmas and Halloween. Instead, I wished Halloween to be over as soon as it started. And I’m dreading Christmas. I didn’t go to the two Christmas parades. I was feeling low. It didn’t interest me. Everyone had someone to go with and I won’t ever ask to be invited into events, I don’t want to be that extra wheel that makes people feel like they have to ask me to come along. No one really invited me to join them short of a comment on facebook from a friend saying I should go to the parade. Everyone has their own traditions with their kids and no matter who I go with, I feel like I don’t fit, like I’m an extra intruding on their traditions and family time. They don’t do anything to make me feel this way, yet I feel it nonetheless. My husband hates parades, so he won’t join me and then of course if I could drag him, we are surrounded by kids who just remind us that we are spending yet another Christmas childless.

I spent the evening of Chris’s grandfathers wake listening to his newly pregnant cousin talk about the inconvenience and poor timing of this pregnancy with her friends and female cousins and then the war stories started about how long they were in labor and the things they hated about pregnancy. I went from being part of the discussion to just putting my head down and doing everything in my power not to cry while my husband just held my hand and no one even noticed how quiet I got, or if they did, they didn’t have the decency to change the topic. Then a few days ago, my grandmother wanted to show me the blanket she just finished for our future child, even though she already made me one but gave it to another cousin who is lapping me for the second time. I don’t know what hurt more, the fact that she gave away the baby blanket made and designated for my child or that she had the time to make me another baby quilt from scratch and I still haven’t gotten knocked up yet. I know she wanted to show me because she’s proud of it and she wants me to know how important I am to her and that she has faith that I will have a kid someday, but at the end of the day its just one more reminder of what I want yet can’t have despite trying my best.

Then my mind starts to wander. It’s already in that dark place so its really no big surprise that it goes dark and it starts thinking all the things it shouldn’t. It starts wondering if my lack of children is what has my friends not talking to me. Lack of common ground? Am I just the infertile friend that they lost interest in? Does my infertility and me being outspoken about my infertility make them that uncomfortable? Nonsense, I know. I get needy when I’m like this but still can’t get myself to open up facebook and send a message, text message or call my friends to ask why we haven’t talked in awhile. I know I’m partially to blame because I know I’m antisocial. But still, I can’t control what my mind thinks.

I don’t want to decorate. I don’t want to put up a tree. I don’t want to go on facebook or twitter because I truly don’t think I can handle another pregnancy announcement or the unending pictures of kids with Santa, newborn baby pictures of the son of the girl I used to babysit. You know, who is 5 years younger than me and had an oops pregnancy with the guy shes been with for around a year. I just can’t emotionally deal with that. I can’t seem to escape kids, babies, pregnancies, newborns, pregnancy announcements. It’s not the season of St. Nick, its the season of lets splatter every single piece of social media with our wonderful news and belly shots and pictures of positive pregnancy tests and pregnancy photo shoots and complaints about nausea and prenatal pills. And lets just go ahead and post stupid pictures that tell everyone how proud you are to be a mom or dad or grandparent and that kids are the greatest gift and if you believe this or have great kids, share this! Its perfectly OK to post that and make me uncomfortable but its not OK for me to post something about infertility because it makes you uncomfortable. What do I want for Christmas? How about my own pregnancy. But if you can’t do that St. Nick, can you at least keep me away from all of this so I don’t cry myself to sleep each night?

I know this is a dark post, but right now, I’m in a dark painful place and I feel alone. And the more alone I feel, the more that these feelings snowball. I just…need a break, a hug, to know that I’m important to someone and be told it’s because my assumptions aren’t working right now. I need a break. I need something to go positive for us, for once. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.

An Emotional Breakdown For One

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So, first my apologies for lack of replies and commenting so far this ICLW. I swear I have a decent reason and I will catch up. But it doesn’t take away my feelings of guilt. I’m always hard on myself and this is no exception. But first I would like to pass along my thanks to everyone who stopped by (both new and regulars) to wish us luck and tell me that I was in their thoughts as we adjust to Chris working away. Sometimes when its a bad day and I’m really missing him, I read those comments and it cheers me up. So all my love and thanks! Now that that’s out of the way, I can fill you in on the drama and emotional aspects of the past couple of days. It’s been a long couple of days and I honestly need to vent.

Chris flew out of Sydney on Tuesday morning at 6am. He ended up spending almost 16 hours traveling between flights, layovers and the bus ride up to camp. Orientation went really well. While I seem to be fine during the day, night is tough on me. Sleep is hard to find and even once I find it, I find myself waking and looking for him in my haze of sleep. I’m a mover in my sleep, always have been. I toss and turn all night but generally sleep through it now. After we moved in together, Chris quickly adjusted to my sleep movements and now sleeps through it as well. During the night I tend to turn into him and hitch my leg over his and more or less curl up either into his side or his back (depending on how he’s sleeping). So now that I’m sleeping alone, I’m not used to him not sleeping with me. So when I turn in my sleep and try to hitch my leg over him, I wake up in a start. Being half asleep, I’m confused and looking for him. Once I realize that he’s not there, I’m awake enough and aware enough that its hard to get back to sleep so then I simply go through the process of falling asleep again. I should note that when I would stay at my parents for the weekend to pet sit, I always slept on the couch for this reason and Chris would also sleep on the couch at home. Clearly we just don’t sleep well without each other. Chris and I will be together a decade at the end of May 2013, so its no surprise that we are struggling with this. Otherwise, we are happily making use of skype and have video chat dates every night. Seeing him but being unable to touch him makes it hard. I cry a bit, but not as much as I expected.

During Chris’s first full shift, he tripped on something, fell and tore the tendon in his bad ankle. He called me from the on site hospital pretty upset. He felt like a failure. He was really struggling with the hard manual labor, and he didn’t know if they would send him home or not. He let down my father on his first damn shift. My father, the man that called in favors to get him out there. If they sent him home, we would lose our chance at treatment. We cannot raise funds for treatment with a job around here. So cue my complete mental and emotional breakdown. I called off from work, broke plans to go to my aunt’s party, went into a social media blackout and refused to answer my phone. I hit a deep depression, stayed in bed all day, cried and more or less let myself bottom out and face every single fear that crossed my mind. I even forgot to eat. I didn’t get out of bed or dressed until I had to go to a bank machine at about 8:30pm. Then I ordered myself a small pizza and pigged out while watching movies. I gave myself the day to deal with the pain and told myself that I would come back to the world and move past it after 24 hours. My pain was valid, I needed to take time to embrace it and then let myself move forward.

The next day, I woke up to a call from my husband. The company is considering it an occupational accident so therefore as long as he can work, they cannot give him a layoff and if they did, we have a workman’s compensation claim that they would have to pay out. He’s currently resting his ankle and they moved him into the office to do office work and said that he can stay there til he is healed and they will transition him back into manual labor. Chris was happy with this, as was I and he was happy to stay in the office as long as they would have him. While in the office today, the girl that was doing the job that he is doing now left for another job and they offered him the job in office for as long as he wants. There is at least a year of work for him with this stuff and they are willing to pay him at the rate he was originally hired for. This could lead to more office work out there after this because in these jobs, its all about getting your foot in the door. After that, you prove yourself and if you make an impression, they will call you back for more work instead of hiring someone new and having to train them.

Then of course, in between when Chris left and when all this shit hit the fan, my grandmother was talking to my mom. My uncle’s brain tumor has left my grandparents worried (understandably) and my grandmother wants to go up and see her son before his condition worsens. She wants to see him for herself. I get that, I would be the same way. My grandfather does not want to travel. It’s too hard on him with his health the way that it is. So my grandmother happily announces to my mother that one of my other uncles are suppose to drive her the couple of provinces over to see her son. When my mother inquired as to who would stay with poppy, she responded with, “well since Chris is gone away now, Kim will stay with poppy.” Ummmm what the hell? Where did this come from? I love my grandparents. I love being able to help out where I can because I know my time with both of them is limited. But this? Is too far. I was not asked. I wasn’t even told by Gram. It was simply assumed. It doesn’t matter that I have cats that need to be fed and a litter to be cleaned regularly and if I’m not home, I have to make arrangements for someone to stay with them while I’m gone. It doesn’t matter that my main communication with my husband is via video chat on Skype and they have no internet connection for me to use. It also doesn’t help that poppy will not let me help wash him, but I get that, the man still wants to hold onto whatever independence and dignity that he has left and his granddaughter washing him takes what last shreds he has left. Needless to say, my mom and dad, one of  my cousins and one of my aunts all agreed that while they are grateful for my help, this is not my responsibility and it shouldn’t be. So now my family is trying to deal with this while I deal with my husband being away.

So regardless of my breakdown because of his accident and all that we would possibly miss out on because of it and my grandmother’s antics, everything seemed to work itself out and give us something better than we had. Chris loves this new job, is moved to day shift and gets to avoid heavy labor. After our talk this morning, I was back to my old self again. I bounced back to myself. I was happy and ready to enjoy the day. I went for my hair appointment, went for a drive with my mom and then hung out with some of my girlfriends this evening. Then I came home to a video date with Chris and I reorganized the living room, did some laundry, and started reorganizing the rest of the apartment too. So 48 hours and I go from extreme low to extreme high. Maybe now I can even out and enjoy the happy middle while I wait for my husband to fly home on the day of our 3rd wedding anniversary.

I hope that everyone is having a better week than what I was having. I hope to get caught up on ICLW tomorrow. As for now, I’m off to get a hot shower and crawl into bed with a movie and drift off to dreamland dreaming of the moment when hubby is back in my arms again.

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Merry Fucking Christmas To Me…

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All this week I have been reading fellow IF’ers posts about the struggles of going to holiday parties looking for a fun evening with friends only to be slammed the entire night with talk of pregnancies that are not theirs. Tonight was that night for me. It was hell and I suffered in silence. Only one person asked if I was ok during all of it, everyone else was too caught up in the pregnancy announcement and sharing their own pregnancy stories to even notice that I was quiet and keeping to myself. I sat through it just trying to smile and make small conversation but I was dying inside.

And now I’m somehow hosting the baby shower for the person who announced it. How did I get into this? How am I gonna get through this or the next six months in one piece?

Just to add to that, I spent all day yesterday in the hospital, did damage to my hip joint and now I’m on pretty damn strong pain meds twice a day for the next 3 weeks. These pain meds also prevent me from drinking. I cannot drink at all during the Christmas holidays. I am not allowed to touch alcohol again til January 7th, 2012. So no alcohol, this is our 3rd Christmas with no pregnancy and one of my best friends (who I truly love with all my heart) is pregnant and won’t stop talking about it (oh and she’s lapping me in the pregnancy world for the second time and she only has one tube). This will be the Christmas from hell. Maybe its time to pick up smoking again. Just til the holidays are over. At least the pain killers won’t stop me from doing that…

I promise that I will give the full story tomorrow (or rather later today because its almost 5am), but for now, I’m pretty doped up on pain meds, I’m depressed and I just wanna cry myself to sleep.

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