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Donate to FET fund
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The Groups
The Bullet Points:
*Still sick. Have ended my love affair with Pepto (useless pink goop!) and am now swearing allegiance to immodium. Finally able to keep water down and therefore finally able to also resume my love affair with Vitamin W. (aha! now I see why I had such a horrible headache, well aside from the obvious dehydration)
*Ebay auctions via UTERUS brigade are going to be wrapping up soon. There will most likely be one final auction for this season. Including the money from direct donations you guys have raised over TWO thousand dollars for my FET! I would kiss you, but trust me, let’s just do an air kiss until I feel better. If you have any ideas for more fundraising please leave them at the beep.
*I didn’t sell my dresses at the garage sale, nor have I taken them to a consignment shop. The truth is that they all could use a good dry cleaning and since most of them are silk that won’t be cheap. But it needs to be done. I am hoping to get them cleaned and up on e-bay soon.
* BG Talula is not doing so great. She flat out refused to eat her RX food (science diet s/d for anyone interested) so the vet has prescribed Royal Canin Dissolution Formula. The goal is to have this rx’d food dissolve her kidney stone. The new food is a bit more appetizing to her, but she won’t really eat. So I have been blending it up with some water and then using a needle-less syringe (gee, isn’t it great to have a few of those handy?) to feed her. If she doesn’t get better she will need surgery. She seems a bit more alert and fit today so I am hoping the new food is working. And for the record, blending up stinky wet cat food and feeding it to your cat all the while fighting a stomach virus? Not recommended.
*I have a friend that is looking for some donated menopur for an IVF cycle at the end of May. If you have information please e-mail me.
*My skin is doing better. I have slacked off the topical treatments since Saturday, but no big damage was done. I was supposed to have my follow up yesterday, but no way was I able to leave the house.
*GM is doing ok. She has been completely thrown by Mother being home so much. Mother naps out in the den and sometimes I catch GM just staring at her. So I say, “Doesn’t [Mother's name] look comfortable?” and GM will say, “oh. is that what that is?”
*Monday night was supremely interesting. I was at my worst, in the bathroom sense, and so so exhausted. Even tho I have been sick I haven’t taken a break from caring for GM. There just has been a LOT more hand-washing and instant sanitizer used. So Monday I was sick in a bad way all day + had regular taking care of GM job + extra bonus taking care of Mother job + sick kitty job. By 7:30pm I was virtually in a coma on the couch in the den. And then I heard hairspray. For some reason GM had gotten herself up at 7:30pm and decided it was 7:30 in the morning. 2 minutes after I heard the hairspray here comes GM waltzing out into the den asking for her morning cup of coffee. ah!! She then got really upset with me and decided I was pulling a trick on her. It was just a bad night.
*Thank you for the feedback on the book review. I hope to be doing a lot more of them. I have offered my copy to another SMC blogger via e-mail, but in case she doesn’t claim it, please let me know if anyone is interested and I will send it your way.
* Question: what is a good (vegetarian) transition to eating after stomach blech? I have stuff for soup- but will veggies be bad? (as in squash, onions, carrots, celery)
A Mother Talk Review: Choosing You
There are many things in our life that are deemed as easy choices: should I turn left or should I turn right? Should I eat another cookie or go to the gym? Should I call my Mother back or would an e-mail be better? These are the choices that ultimately don’t effect the entire orb of our being (except the cookie or gym situation…)
Then there are the big whammy choices we are faced with: Should I move to Los Angeles or stay in NYC? Should I quit my job and take care of my Grandmother? Should I sever that relationship or should I let the abuse continue?
Those were some hard, soul-searching questions that I have had to make choices about. But one of the things I never thought I would have to choose was a life without a child. Somehow I always knew that I would have one, with a husband or without one. I remember putting that idea out into the universe as early as my freshman year in college.
Being raised by a single Mother and being the Granddaughter of an extremely independently minded woman basically taught me that I could do anything I damn well wanted – and if that meant having a kid on my own then so be it. I never lamented or mourned the concept of not having a husband or boyfriend to take the journey with. Not then.
Reading Alexandra Soiseth’s chronicle of her personal journey to single motherhood was eye opening. Choosing You brought up lots of issues that up until now had been tucked neatly away in a box marked, “to shrink later”. For starters I had this interesting reaction to the cover of the book that featured a stunningly beautiful baby being kissed by a stunningly beautiful woman.
I should explain for those that are unfamiliar with my own struggles, I am a woman that wants to be a single mother, but after three plus years of trying I am still sadly in the ‘wants to’ group and not so much in the ‘has one’ group. So I bring to this book a complex bag of emotions that many of you may not.
And back to the cover…where the beautiful people are lounging. My gut reaction was to immediately flip to the back of the book for the author’s bio page. Seeing the portrait of Alexandra, a kind and sincere looking woman gazing back at me was instantly comforting. Ok, so this was written by a real person. I needed to know that this book wasn’t going to be exclusively for something that I will never be.
The book begins with a sweet dedication page to the author’s daughter. I felt empowered knowing right off the bat that this was a success story. Love that. The next page (& I swear I won’t be reviewing the book page by page, work with me here) was a table of contents. Usually this is something I would totally ignore. This isn’t a reference or how to book so I didn’t need to find an applicable chapter and pass go. But for some reason I was drawn to read the chapter titles. Chapter 5: Torn between two donors goes swiftly into Chapter 6: I’m pregnant!
And then almost instantly my previous feelings of empowerment were replaced with something a bit more bitter. I hate that, but I feel I should bring it up as it happened. Before I even read the book I was judging. Bad, very bad.
The book begins with an endearing epilogue: a brief and simple insight into the thought process of Alexandra. How she always knew she was born to be a mother. And I found myself nodding my head. Yes, I thought, I get that.
We are introduced to Alexandra better in chapter one where she lets us know about her gift for creating a close knit community of friends wherever she goes. And it is also where we learn that Alexandra has some food/body/esteem issues. It is where we learn that she feels that the number on the scale is in direct proportion to the feelings of loneliness that she feels. It is also where she proposes the following to her best friend: “I want Ken to be my just-in-case guy.” Ken being her best friend’s brother and just-in-case meaning sperm donor. A few days later she is out on a deck of her friend’s vacation house and talking to Ken. It is a scene that immediately feels tense and awkward and Alexandra writes it with delicacy and tenderness.
This same delicacy is also used to describe many painful moments in Alexandra’s life from the childhood abandonment of her Mother (and eventual return) to sexual abuse she suffered at a young age from a neighbor. I begin to understand this woman more, feel her pain, her longing. I resonate completely with her body issues and happily cheer for her when she embarks on a weight loss plan and begins to make her health a priority.
The things that baffled me were the shame and guilt that always lingered when food or weight issues were addressed. It is a theme that will run through out the book, sometimes surfacing at the most unusual times. I found myself wanting to reach out to Alexandra, to call her and tell her to ease up on herself. But I instantly recognized that her behavior is something that I probably do as well. A lot can be suffocated in the tight clench of body issues.
Years pass and Alexandra is still single and frustrated. There are many awful dates and awful men detailed and it becomes so clear that there is a great divide between a woman’s need to have a child and a man’s need to be a parent. That Alexandra makes the mental switch to stop looking for a baby via the typical husband route seems so natural and obvious. The steps that she takes to evaluate the moving on to trying to become a Mother alone are healthy and done within a resilient support system of friends.
The only voices of doubt come from Alexandra’s own family. Her sister, married with children, wonders if Alexandra can handle something as difficult as child rearing on her own. “I sometimes think you don’t know how hard that would be.” Then she wonders if the need for having a child is masking something else. “Is it a baby you want? Or is it that you just don’t want to be alone?”
Reading this conversation brought up questions about my own path and conversations that I have had with friends. It reminded me of the friends that I have lost because they don’t understand why I would ever opt to have a child without a husband. It made me wonder how many of us have had to justify our choices to loved ones. How many conversations have we had where we had to defend treatment options or a road less traveled? Alexandra chooses to answer these questions with a confident silence and I admired her strength in that instance. Some things are not up for questioning, more of us should remember that.
This is not a book about infertility, and it really isn’t a book about being a single Mother. Rather it is a book about making a huge choice and following it through from the heart. Alexandra’s book is a great example of how each of us are on our own individual journey’s that travel at different speeds and sometimes end up at different destinations.
I would probably not suggest this as a book for a woman in the trenches of complex infertility. However it is a good book for any woman or friend of a woman that is contemplating becoming a Mother on her own. If you are thinking about embarking on this adventure alone I would make sure each of your friends reads this book. Then call them over and talk.
So, question for you guys: At any stage of your motherhood journey have you heard disparaging comments? Has anyone in your family or circle of friends been less than supportive or helpful? How did you work through it (if you did)?
More information on the Mother Talk Book Tours can be found here.
siiiiiiiiiiiiick
bad stomach virus. bad. first Mother, then me. doing all I can to not touch Grandmother. oh sweet pepto…
An Open Letter to my Inbox:
I know that it is your primary duty to get me my e-mail in a swift and organized fashion and for the most part (let’s not go into last thursday’s little incident) you perform this duty in fine form and fashion. My e-mail is delivered and color sorted by assigned aliases just as I would like it. Really, you do an amazing job.
However, the complaint that I would like to address to you is your inability to filter out and delete e-mails that displease me. Granted this would take some sort of divine animation on your part, but nevertheless I still am disappointed that you can not read my emotions and then present my mail accordingly.
Lately you have been allowing certain advertisement e-mails to make their way in. These would be the e-mails proclaiming a certain ‘holiday’ in May. While I understand that you may reply that everyone has someone that they can honor on the aforementioned holiday, I would like to remind you that at this moment in my life all I can cipher from these adverts is that I am not that someone.
If you could please cease and desist all e-mails containing phrases alluding to or notifying of the certain upcoming date in May I would be most appreciative. Please also understand that I am hopeful that at some point in the next few years I will not have any issues with this date in question. Until then please consider yourself warned.
Most sincerely,
The heart of Calliope Jones
Another post on comments.
Don’t run, I swear this is not a de-lurk post or even a plea for more comments. Hell I lived on the fumes of your optimism yesterday so I have nothing but mad love for you guys that take the time to leave a note or comment.
What I want to talk about is YOUR blog.
I know that there are many different blog platforms: livejournal, wordpress, blogger, typepad…and probably some I don’t even know about. And I know that there is an option to leave a comment for a post in all of those platforms. But what frustrates me is how effing different it all is. I know many, many of you are super protective of comments as you have been the victim of assholeishness or evil or invasive posters. I get that.
I get that there are different levels of protection that you employ. Some of you have entire blogs that are password protected or maybe just a post here or there. Some of you only allow comments from people that are registered with your blog, others like to moderate everything before it is published. And then there are the platforms that ask for word verification. Oh good lawd is that tough on the eyes. Sometimes, when the font is bigger and the nonsense letter arrangement contains a fake and funny looking word (as in S3xMaaaN) I am pleasantly amused and the jauntiness of the fake word will infiltrate my mood as I chirpingly leave you a comment.
And then sometimes the fake word is in super small font and 5 acres long and it takes me 26 times to get it right and each time I am wrong I start to think that maybe the comment I am trying to leave is stupid or lame or dumb and maybe, just maybe, your blogging platform is trying to tell me something. Like maybe I should edit my comment or not comment at all.
The hardest moments for me are the blogs that don’t allow me to be, well, me. Many of you guys have stopped allowing anonymous comments on your blog and with the end of that comes the end of the option for me to comment without having to log into your blog platform. Not that I use the anonymous option, but I am the gal that prefers whatever option it is that lets me type in my Name and my url. It is easy enough to do this on livejournal, but blogger has some issues with me. (google has a hate on for me ever since their swift kick in adsense happened)
I was able to set up an open identity (aka open id) that will let me comment in some instances, but in other places it won’t. And I miss it. I also miss seeing comments from other people from other blog platforms. I am sad when I read through the comments on a blog and over 98% of the comments are from whatever platform that blogger is using. As in reading a blogger blog and all the comments that are allowed are from other blogger blog peeps. (& maybe 2 or 3 open id blogs that managed to squeak in)
Blog reader programs (like bloglines and that OTHER reader program) have become more and more handy. I totally employ the use of bloglines to help me do a quick scan of you guys. And then I make a little note to come back and comment. And sometimes I can’t. Literally.
I guess what I am really lamenting is that because of a few jerkoffs that use comments to hurt, many of you guys are feeling the very real need to protect yourself. I hate that, but I get it. But just know that I am still reading.
Backyard Photos…animal version
Giant “Phew” Moment
Not cancer. Not. Cancer. Not even diabetes. It’s a kidney stone- and a pretty large one. Luckily (thankfully, with great relief and exhales) the vet thinks that with the proper treatment she will be back to normal in a few weeks. Mother told the vet that I was wringing my hands over feeling like such a horrible pet parent. I have now been assured that I brought her in at the first sign I could have noticed anything, and that cats are pretty good at hiding their feelings, their pain. (clearly Talula does not get that from me) But I am still pretty sad that she is hurting. I think we all hurt when our animals friends do.
The treatment is a small daily dose of anti-inflammatory meds that will be tapered down to weekly, then monthly. She will also be eating a special diet. The food will dissolve the stone. Amazing. Even more amazing is that the clinic works on a sliding scale and Mother was able to get the vet to lower it even more when she picked Talula up.
She is home now and doing laps around the house to see if I rearranged the furniture while she was away. Actually now she is upstairs doing her litter dance routine. I hope once she feels better that little number can be retired.
Thank you ALL for your good vibes and hopeful wishes.
A, B, the C word, or D
Got Talula to the vet on the early side and she was whisked directly back to an exam room. The place I take her to only treats cats and everyone there is basically a crazy cat lady. The exam rooms look like little living rooms and everything is cozy and comforting.
The vet, who is the top dog at the cat place, coaxed Talula out of her carrier and played with her a while. Then she put her up on a covered table and began the exam. As she listened to kitty the vet would ask me questions: When did you notice a change? Do you realize how much weight she has lost? Has her personality changed recently?
I have to tell you that I began to cry immediately. I know these are standard questions, but holy hell did my brain just start screaming, “See!! This is proof that you would be a bad parent!”
I tried to answer in a strong, clear voice, but I could tell that the vet was finding something. And of course there I am a violin string about to snap and GM is fidgeting in her wheel chair snapping at me that she can’t understand a damn thing that is happening.
Guilt compounded upon guilt. I suck at taking care of my kitty and apparently I am sucking at taking care of GM now as well.
And then the vet said what I knew I couldn’t take. Cancer. Most certainly. Large, hard mass in the intestines and bladder.
Fuck. I can’t even write this without sobbing. But there is more…
We started the blood work, they have a lab on site and could have results in under 20 minutes. They also have an ultrasound tech who is usually off on wednesdays but they called her to see if she could come in. And so they took Talula away to draw blood and I was left in the room with GM who was still twisting around and totally disoriented and confused.
When she asked what was wrong with me I explained that our kitty was sick and that it could be bad. Her response, “better say goodbye now.” I felt myself get so hot and ill inside. This is exactly how things were 2 years ago when Admiral Wyatt was sick. I took him in for some antibiotics after a turtle bite and it turned into the vet discovering extremely aggressive lymphoma. Mother had already moved to Florida and GM was dwelling in a month of funk moods. So when I was at my worst emotional place GM would say things like, “want me to kill the dog for you?”
fucking Alzheimer’s.
This time I could call Mother and count on her to come sit with me, or at least distract GM while I dealt with things. By the time Mother showed up they had just gotten the blood work back and everything was beyond normal. Except for one test, and I can’t remember which one, that indicated that it could actually be diabetes going on.
Now BG Talula has a complicated relationship with my Mother. I think it would be safe to say that she tolerates her but is not always enamored. This can be attributed to the fact that my Mother is the pet Mother of Talula’s nemesis, an impish cat named Minnie that does not know how to respect boundaries. Talula went up to Mother and sniffed in her direction then leaped up to the sofa so that she could get a better whiff. And then she peed. (Talula, not my Mother)
She did this peeing just as the vet was coming back in to talk to us. The vet got super excited. (as did Mother. cat piss on work clothes is never fun.) I picked up Talula from the sofa and put her down and she continued peeing and I could then see that her pee was red. Blood. In the pee.
So the vet grabbed a needless syringe and sucked the pee up and happily chirped that pee was a GOOD thing. And red pee was a sign that it might not be cancer. Or, it might mean she has something else WITH the cancer.
And now I am waiting. waiting. waiting.
The ultrasound should be performed sometime before 3 and 4 this afternoon and we will know then if it is a stone (either in her bladder or kidney), diabetes (repeat glucose testing at 3. finally remembered which test that was), and/or cancer.
If it is cancer the vet was trying to sell me some bullshit that it won’t be as awful as I think it is. That lymphoma cancer in cats is not as bad as it is in dogs. That I could still have some good years with Talula. But I can’t hear any of that right now. I can’t loose another animal the way I did Admiral Wyatt.
Have a cat? I have a question.
I am waiting for 8am to roll around as that is when the vet’s office opens. But something is not quite right with Talula. Her appetite changed a week ago. Complete refusal of eating dry cat food had me serving her some wet type food (it’s the new chunky wet (ewwww) from Meow Mix). (and yes. I did just have a parenthetical within my parenthetical.)
This morning I went to empty her litter box and it was almost empty. No poop and the smallest clumps of pee ever. This is surprising as lately she has developed this massive love fest with being in her litter box and scratching around.
Clearly alarm bells went off when I saw that she wasn’t going to the bathroom (hence soon to be had call to the vet). But because I am a gal that likes to brace herself I am putting this issue out there for some input on what it could be.
Please don’t freak me out too much, but if your cat has been through something similar and it was totally cleared up I would love to hear it. I am wondering if she is blocked up since the diet change. I have done the mash the kitty pet owner exam. You know where you put the kitty in your lap and mash around listening for any shrill meows that would indicate a pain. I have also felt around for tumors. gulp. None found with my hands. I can’t go through that again.
She isn’t acting like she is sick or hurt, but after losing Admiral Wyatt so suddenly two years ago I am a bit hyper sensitive to ANYTHING being wrong.
UPDATE: Vet appointment is at 11:00am.
overheard in the hallway:
GM: There is something happening today.
Cali: Tell me about it.
GM: I don’t know what it is. But isn’t there always something happening?
5 minutes later, getting dressed:
GM: What is happening today?
Cali: We are going to drink coffee!
GM: You make good coffee.
Cali: Thank you
GM: Bet you I drink it better than you do.
2 minutes later as we are putting on shoes
GM: Better buckle the shoes up. It’s the law!
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