Category Archives: sadness

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.

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.

Sick To Death Of Death

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I’m just gonna put this out there, I’m sick of death.

I’m so tired of going to wakes and funerals and sending condolences and sudden deaths and slowly watching people die. I need some time where I’m not bombarded by death. Universe, I get it, you hold all the cards and we are mere players in a game we don’t know the rules for. No need for the reminders anymore.

In the past month and a half a friend lost her father, then 2 friends lost their grandmothers within days of each other. Last week another friend lost her father suddenly. Then, the day after I attended the funeral for my friends father, and the day we found a new home for our dog (because of my husbands sudden bad allergic reaction to the dog we loved so much) I walked into work to find out that one of my co-workers was riding her bike and was struck from behind on the highway by a car driven by an 18 year old. Rumors are circulating that the kid was text messaging when they hit her and now her 3 children are without their mom.

The first hour of my shift today was spent with my co-workers in a mandatory group grief counseling session to help process the death of our co-worker. Nightshift at my job is different from the day shift. We are a closer, tight knit group, and even though I’ve only been there since mid-May, I’m incredibly close to those on my team. She was on the upstairs team but all of the nightshift tends to mingle together and you get to know everyone. So its no surprise that my supervisor broke down in tears when she told us, and its no surprise that work has been somber and we are all grieving for her, even after knowing her for such a short time. So its also no surprise that one of the other teams took up a collection and used that to treat both our team and upstairs team to hot tea and coffee and sweets on our first break after our grief counseling. Things like that make you want to go back to work and put extra effort into what you do. It shows you that despite the sadness and death, there are still kind and loving people in this world.

Then to add to that, my grandfathers health is bad. I could say its less than stellar, but lets call a spade a spade. It’s bad, it’s not going to get better and I’ll admit it, I’m scared. Many in the family don’t see him on a day to day basis because they live away, but me and mom see it, dad sees it when he’s home. It’s slowly getting worse. I’m scared that he’s next. He’s sleeping all the time now. If we take him out anywhere, he can’t kept his balance, even with a walker. He doesn’t want to do anything anymore other than sleep all day. When I visit, he asks me if I’m working. When I tell him yes, he asks where. Then I tell him where and he berates himself because he knew that. Then he asks how I’m doing. 5 minutes later, after a lull in the conversation, he looks at me and asks if I’m working again. I don’t have the heart to tell him that he already asked me that so I just answer again. He’s made so many jumps from bad to good, always with the seasons. In the winter months he’s bad and he always jumped back in the spring and summer. But it’s summer and he’s not jumping back like he always did. A year or two ago, the doctors told us that with his heart condition, he would be fine until he’s not. That’s what happens with this condition. They told us that we shouldn’t be surprised if he were to pass in his sleep. And as much as him passing away will break all of us in the family, I hope that he goes peacefully in his sleep. It’s so hard to watch him waste away.

And I guess, that’s my reasoning for my absence as of late. My weekend comes and I want to escape. So that’s what I do. My weekends are spent with my husband who’s been doting on me constantly since Mia left (he fears I hate him because he is the reason why she had to go, even if I don’t and could never hate him), and Saturdays are turning into a weekly ritual with friends where we spent Saturday nights sitting around a campfire. Friends have kept me busy, they invite me to the beach, their pools, out for coffee and sometimes board games. I’m back at the gym full swing, and dare I say it, but I finally attacked that spare bedroom I’ve been talking about for months. It’s half done and I plan on finishing it as soon as my weekends allow it. Other than the push I had to put in for a guest blog spot over at The Infertility Voice about the royal baby (thanks so much for the guest spot, Keiko!!), I really haven’t had much time or energy to put towards a half decent post. I thought about it, glanced through my news feed, but I really didn’t have the time to even comment on posts, let alone write a post. I still have to get around to some congratulations (yes D, I’m talking to you! Keep those beta numbers rising!!) and go through my back log of posts in my reader and try to add those comments I’ve been desperate to find the time to do.

I hope everyone is well. If I missed any big news, leave an update in the comments and I’ll head over to catch up. Love, as always, to everyone!

xoxo

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.

Dealing With Death & Finding Your Place

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This afternoon, my husband’s grandfather lost his 11 year battle with Alzheimer’s. My husband comes from a very large and, for the most part, incredibly close family with most still living locally. As soon as he passed we were called and we went down to the nursing home to be with my in-laws and the aunts, uncles and cousins that were there to say goodbye to the wonderful man who left us today. My heart breaks for the wonderful family I was lucky enough to marry into. I cry for them, the pain they are feeling and the emptiness that comes with a loss of family.

My husband is doing well for the most part, and so are my in-laws. Sad but just getting through the day, making arrangements. But I find myself in an odd position. I’ve been with my husband for almost 10 years and the last immediate family death was during our first year together. We were dating, I was still getting to know everyone at that point. Since then, I’ve gotten so close to many in the family and I’ve been accepted by all. They all attended our wedding. I see them at all the holiday events. But yet I’m here and I still feel slightly like an outsider intruding on something private. When I first met his grandfather he was already showing signs of the disease. I got to talk to him, hang out with him, but only for those first few years. He was soon put in a nursing home because he needed care around the clock and Chris struggled with seeing the man he respected and loved so much deteriorate to a shadow of himself. He chose not to visit him in the home, remember him the way he was and I supported him and told him to do what he had to do. I know that not everyone can go into a nursing home and watch the person they love slowly die. I find it easy, but I understand that it’s not for everyone.

Yet today, I felt out of place. No one made me feel that way, I just simply felt in the way to everyone else. Like a stranger intruding on a very private moment. Do I hug? Apologize? Stand quietly by Chris as he hugs everyone? Introduce myself to the family I haven’t met yet? If someone apologizes to me for “my loss”, I feel like a fraud because it’s really Chris’s loss. Honestly, it’s my loss by proxy, by marriage. It’s like being thrown on stage for a play but you don’t know the lines and you are left standing there awkwardly center stage under the hot lights. There was this moment where I didn’t know what to do because I don’t know how their family deals with death. I’m sure everyone has felt some level of this at one point or another. Yet no one vocalizes it because you just want to comfort those you care most about. I don’t post this to take away from anything that Chris or his family is going through, but rather just to sort my own thoughts and find some direction for myself. I want what we all want in this situation, to be the most efficient and helpful to our loved ones as possible. You want to be that strong wall of support, everything they need and more, to be able to anticipate their every need. I know my family traditions, I know my role when one of my family members pass away. But these people are not the same as my own family. So what do I do?

Have you ever watched How I Met Your Mother? When Marshall’s father dies, his friends and wife spend the entire episode trying to figure out how they fit, how to help. Lily at one point told the others that Marshall needed to pee and she instantly offered to do it for him. It was only while she was peeing that she realized that she couldn’t help him do that, it just doesn’t work that way. Then Lily finds her role in taking the heat and harsh words from Marshall’s mom, the boys try to cheer Marshall up by showing him youtube videos of guys getting hit in the balls and Robin is the one who has “everything” in her purse. (Nude playing cards, a flask, a phone charger and Crocodile Dundee 3 on DVD just to name a few). I understand the episode because that’s how I feel.

If I’ve learned one major thing in my life, it’s that everyone, and every family, has their own way to deal with death. Some are private, some are public, and others meet somewhere in the middle. My grandmother’s death was a big affair. The wake (or calling hours, as some know it as) were lined out the door of the funeral home for all three of the set times we had. While others may only have one small set time for calling hours, yet while others have no calling hours at all or strictly private hours for immediate family only. For my grandmother, the church was full, myself and my cousin were asked to do readings. Other cousins were asked to be pallbearers. People brought us food (there was soooo much food!) There was a get together at my aunts after the service and then family and friends drank and played music. Fiddles, guitars and French and Gaelic music well into the wee hours of the morning, just as she would’ve wanted it.

Then I look at my dads family. My grandparents want a strict private viewing for immediate family only, then the funeral and private prayer at the graveyard with just immediate family. Then of course, a reception of some sort for family and friends afterwards. My uncle’s wake in NB was much more informal and instead of the family seated closest to the casket so those that come to the wake can easily distinguish who the family is, they socialized and moved amongst the room, which was a first for me while the funeral itself was much like my grandmothers. The big difference to me was the prayer by the grave. I’ve only ever gone to the graveyard for final graveside prayers for my grandmother. I’m used to immediate family only going to this, where with my uncle, there were more people, myself included, who were there while I’ve never done that for other aunts and uncles here at home. I’m guessing that this is different here just due to the sheer size of families around here. most of our parents come from families of 5-10 kids. Now in bigger cities, extended families are spread out where smaller areas still tend to have large clusters of their family together. My cousin Gordie’s funeral was much more of a celebration of a young life gone too soon. No wake, but instead a funeral and then a catered reception at his mother’s that started after prayers at the graveyard and went well into the evening. There are simply so many factors to how one deals with a family death, whether they be religion based, geographically based, or based in strong family traditions.

So upon coming home from the nursing home with Chris, I did what I do best: I went into helpful mode. I wanted to feel useful. Chris was laying down. I’d doted on him to the point of him telling me to sit down and relax. Then I went and made myself a sandwich. I was on auto pilot so I was shocked when I came back from pouring myself a cup of tea and saw 6 sandwiches made and cut up. I don’t remember making them but I must’ve just kept going until I ran out of chicken mixture while the rest of me was caught up in my own mind and thought process. So I plated them and got them ready to go to my in-laws. I’m glad I did, it was the first thing my in-laws ate all day. I ran errands for them. i felt good to have a role. to be able to help them. Through the years, growing up in my family, the thing you do upon hearing of a death of a friend or a family member to someone in our life is bake a meal for them. Ham and salad, a casserole, cabbage rolls, anything that can be stored and reheated. Fruit, veggie or meat trays, sandwiches or baked goods. The giving and receiving of food at the time of a loss was so nice, it was a gift to know how many people cared about you during your time of pain. it was that friendly and caring reminder to not forget to eat, to keep energy and strength up. When my cousin A’s uncle (on the other side of her family) passed away, my mother, aunt and myself stayed at the house and set everything up for the get together after the funeral. We made tea, warmed food, washed dishes, did whatever they needed us to do. Family from away were amazed at what we were doing because they’ve never seen it before. I’ve never been thanked so much before in my life. But it’s just what I do, what I’ve always done, I’m a helper. I’ve always felt useless in situations where I can’t be put to work. Maybe that stems from my people pleasing ways. I naturally revert to it in hopes of making the suffering easier in some way for those that I love and care about.

But now I’m left trying to figure out what to do. Figure out the traditions of my newer branch of family. Helping Chris and my in-laws. Adapting to their traditions and finding my place. For now, I give out hugs, give Chris control of the remote with no complaints of whatever he wants to watch. I’m baking because it’s what I do best. Get our outfits for the coming days cleaned and ironed. Help my mother-in-law. Offer help to cousins and aunts and uncles. Pass out tissue to dry eyes. Try to help and show my love and respect for them during this difficult time by giving myself in any way I can. And know that next time, maybe I’ll know my place and not feel so out of place.

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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Leaving On A Jet Plane

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We’re going way back here. Do you remember the movie Armageddon? Now, I might age myself here, but the year was 1998 and I was 16. It starred Bruce Willis, Ben Affleck and Liv Tyler. It had a hit song by Aerosmith, “I Don’t Wanna Miss A Thing“. But it also had another song that seen some popularity. It was a remake of a John Denver song, “Leaving On A Jet Plane” and it was sung by Canadian artist Chantal Kreviazuk.

Back before we got married, my husband went out west to work in the camps for his trade of metal fabrication. It was a month there, one week home. I hated seeing him leave, but at the time this was the best way. And when he left, this song sort of became my anthem. Because he was one of the last in that rotation to be hired and the fact that they over hired, he was one of the first to be laid off at the end of his first rotation. When he came back home, he decided not to go back out and got a decent job at home.But even now, when I randomly hear this song, those feelings of him getting on that plane resurface.

Fast forward to last month when my dad got my husband indentured in the electrical trade. Then fast forward again to yesterday when he got the call I was both excited for and dreading. It’s official. He got his flight information and he flies out first thing Tuesday morning. We’ve been waiting for this for almost 2 months at this point and now hes leaving and I have to convince my heart that we made the right decision.

Here’s the thing, we need money for treatments. With both of us working jobs around here, it would take us years just to save for one round of IVF and I would be well into advanced maternal age before we could give it our first try. With Chris accepting the job in Alberta, his starting wage as a first year electrician is more than double what he is making here and the further he goes with his schooling and moves up in the trade blocks, the more money he will make. We can finally take care of ourselves comfortably, afford as many treatments as necessary to get our end goal of children, start a savings and college funds for our children before they even make their appearance in our life and maybe even enjoy some traveling.

But the down parts remain. For every 3 weeks we have together, 2 of them will be spent apart. And by apart, I literally mean on opposite ends of the country. My heart aches at the mere thought of sleeping without him. My best sleep has always been curled up to him. Our conversations will have to happen over a skype video chat. Then of course are the things that he will miss. Birthdays, anniversaries and important dates and get togethers. Right now, the day of our 3 year wedding anniversary, he will be spending the entire day traveling home to me. And he will be flying out on the morning of my 30th birthday. Talk about shitty huh? And so far, hes also missing Thanksgiving and Halloween. On top of that, I will be the one overseeing the packing and moving into our home in late October. I will have to rely on the help of family and friends to paint and unpack.

Then of course, what happens when we do get pregnant? I will spend most of my pregnancy alone. Then of course, infertility was the final nail in the coffin for this decision. We needed money for treatment and now he will have to work away once we finally have what we aimed for. Thankfully, we live close to both sets of parents so I’m not alone alone, but my partner, my love, will be spending most of his time watching from afar through a computer. Mind you once I finally give birth, I will give up my maternity leave and give it to Chris, let him take the year off so that he doesn’t miss out, so I can have him home for an extended time. There are perks to being Canadian and the year of maternity leave that can be used by either spouse is one of the best perks. But what about after that year? That part scares me.

So while in many ways it seems like an easy choice to make, its not. It comes at a cost. I’ve been asked why we don’t both just up and relocate, but it becomes redundant. Cost of living here is infinitely cheaper and relocating out there would put us in the same money situation that we are in now with no hope of banking money at a fast rate for treatment. By doing camp work, they pay your way up and back, you live on site so everything you make is take home. There are no costs to the worker, money wise, to this sort of job. Regardless, the emotional costs are high and I only hope that we can handle this.When Chris got his call, I jumped from excited to petrified more often that I could possibly count. From certainty that we could do this to sheer fear that we couldn’t handle it.

I wish I could share my fears, have someone talk me down from the emotional ledge I find myself on every couple of hours. My mother has been living this life for 13 years and while her words are comforting to an extent, I just wish I could fast forward to a point where I could be comfortable with it, like my mother.

So on Tuesday morning while I say goodbye to my husband for two weeks and watch him board that plane, Leaving On A Jet Plane will be playing on repeat in my mind. 

We can do this. Yes. I’m certain of it.

…Right?

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A Shocking Goodbye

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Prior to working for my dad full time, I worked at a horse track for seven years. It was, for the most part, a wonderful seven years. The regular ups and downs of any job, but at the end of my day, I still smiled and laughed and occasionally enjoyed myself at work. I got to work with my friends. Four of my six bridesmaids either have worked or still work there. My wedding was a scheduling nightmare for work. The track, the staff and the people there made an impact on my life. Both good and bad. Only near the end did it really get uncomfortable and I was just glad when the final shoe fell and I left.

During my seven years I worked mostly as a seller and then moved into the office. But during those years I have had two different groups of people that I waited on as a bookie: the simulcast crowd and the live crowd. A quick breakdown of betting at a horse track: Simulcast racing is multiple tracks on TV’s live via satellite. Live racing is the track you are working for is hosting the races and the horses are running around the track outside of the building you are in. And while there is a lot of cross over in the customers you see there, they basically split into two groups: the local horsemen and women and local horse racing fans who enjoy watching local horse people race horses they know and enjoy the live experience while they throw some money down on their favorites. Then you have simulcast. These people love to bet. They watch and read the odds, they study drivers, jockeys, horses, and stats and are there to make money. Sometimes they are there to watch a local horse or driver/owner race in the big leagues. But the main difference at simulcast is the betting. Each group had its good people and bad people. You had your snotty people, your bitchy people, the people trying to short you money, the people pissed at the world and taking it out on you. The slowpokes, the ‘this is my first time’-ers. You have your heavy tippers, the people jumping for joy on a 2 dollar profit, the losers, the people who can’t afford to bet but do it anyway and then suffer from guilt when they lose. Then there are the minimum betters, the big spenders, the confused people, the ‘I said it one way, agreed when you confirmed, and then bitch that you got it wrong after the race went’ people and even the ‘I’m just happy to be here and enjoy the experience’ people (I liked them, they were rare).

Over the years, you notice things. Like, for instance, you will always have the same 30-40 people at simulcast all year. You learn their bets, betting style, and sometimes you have their tickets printed off before they even make it to the machine. It’s mostly made up of older men who have been betting most of their lives. You know their moods, their family by the voices on the phone and you know how many days are left til lobster season is open by how irritating Walter is. You know Crunch’s laugh and you hear him before you see him. You hear Gerald’s nasally, bitchy voice before you see him and you cringe. You know you can read a chapter of your book while you wait for Donnie to pick his tickets. Al is quiet but when he wins, he always tips. Not all of them are bad. Some come with fun banter. Billy M always knows whats going on with the Screaming Eagles and always toes that line in the sand between flirty comments and oh no you didn’t! Billy W is shy and you can tell when he likes one of the girls. Manzy can get the entire room in an uproar in record time and you can hear him snickering in the background as soon as you show your frustration. Chedda bets the favorite and complains when it pays nothing. And Jesse is a old man stuck in a 20 year old’s body. Some you can tell off and they give it back til you are both laughing. You can offer to cut someone off for a bit to help them out and know that they are not offended but are grateful for the offer. I’ve dealt with some assholes, I’ve had nasty words with many. I’ve cut people off, sent them home, had them kicked out and reported them for verbal abuse. I’ve had to give some warnings. But I’ve also had people congratulate me on my marriage and ask how I was doing and offer me a smile on a bad day. After I left, I ran into one customer and his wife (who always sent us homemade fudge) and they both gave me a big hug and congratulated me on my new job. I’ve been given baked goods and brought treats and coffee just because.We know them all because to most, this is their life. Each of us have our favorites and our most hated customers. And the customers have their favorites and least favorites too.

So you got to know your customers. And when they were out sick, you worried and asked others how they were doing. When Crunch was diagnosed with cancer, I asked about him every chance I got. When he died, I cried. Even now that I’m not working there, I always ask my friends who still work there how some of my favorite customers are doing. Always send my best or a hug. And my friends keep me informed. So today was a sad day when one of my friends messaged me to tell me that one of our regulars, Linda, passed away on Sunday. Linda was one of my favorites. One of the sweetest ladies you could ever meet. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, never had a complaint. Always a smile on her face, even through her bout with cancer. Shes from a horse racing family so we always seen her at live but she would occasionally stop by simulcast when one of the local drivers or horses were racing.When I worked in New Waterford and it was a slow night and she would be there, I would go and sit with her and just share stories back and forth. Stories about my father when he was younger. Stories about her horses or her families horses. Sometimes just sitting and enjoying the races. She had trouble walking so I would get her bet from her at the table and then go print it off and bring it back to her. And the gratefulness in her voice when she said thank you for such a small thing just blew your mind. She was soft spoken and never wanted to be a burden. The last time I seen her was the last live racing card that I worked. She was too weak to get out of the van so I went over to give her a hug and just say hi and catch up. She knew my family, especially my father, and always asked how he was.

Her death shocked me. Shocked the friend that told me. Shocked the friends that I was visiting with tonight. I knew she was battling cancer last year but she was so optimistic. Even in her weakened state and walking with a cane, she just had faith that she would get through it. That it was simply a minor inconvenience and that she would soon be on the mend. So hearing that she didn’t just breaks me apart. My heart broke today over her death. The world has lost an amazingly kind and gentle soul. Her kindness always served as a reminder to me that there are truly kind and gentle people out there still amongst the hateful and hurtful people. Thank you Linda, for that constant reminder.

I ask that you all take a moment, for me, for my friends and especially for the family that lost her, and say a prayer for this amazing woman. Please pray that her soul may find peace.

Goodbye Linda. You were a wonderfully kind woman and I hope you find peace.
Rest now.

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