Saturday night

For lack of a better prop

Always look up

My new favorite thing to photograph

Except the snow. Wow. Did you hear there was a blizzard? And while I still firmly live in the “love it!” camp when it comes to the stuff (remember, it’s all still a bit new and shiny for me) shoveling it has been a learning experience. The first hour is all bad-ass and awesome. I attack the snow like nobody’s business. I get thrilled just watching the progress. But then I get sore or over-heated or snow down my shirt. And I start to wane on my vim. I start to hate being tall. (Maybe I am wrong- but it just seems like I have to bend more being so effing tall.)

I approached  the shoveling in waves. That first hour was over fast and I was exhausted. I took a break. Had a beverage. And then back out I went. I was nearly to the car when I heard, “excuse me!!!” I looked up and an older woman and two teen-aged girls waved at me from the main road. They were decked out in parkas and the older woman had a camera around her neck. She pointed to it as she loudly asked, “Do you know where we can take a good photograph of the water?”

Well it just so happens I did know because I take a zillion photographs weekly of the view of the water. I ambled up to talk and we met half way. We exchanged names. I found out that the older woman and one of the girls lived on a farm about a mile down the road. An alpaca farm that I pass every time I head into town. I exclaimed that I would love to come visit and bring W.

And then the following exchange happened:

Her: How sweet. Of course. How old is your son?

Me: Ten months yesterday. [wow.]

Her: And is he your only one?

Me: He is, and it took me five years to get him.

Her: (squeezing the shoulder of her daughter) I know exactly what you mean.

And a ripple of understanding wafted through the cool air and we smiled at each other. Members of the queendom. Speakers of the same language. Travelers on the road to hell and back.

I set them off to the best place to take photos and they went on their way. I continued my work heaving and hoeing. Twenty minutes later I heard them come back from the vista and make their way to a neighbor’s house down the road. We waved.

An hour later I was back out shoveling the snow off of the car and I saw them leave the neighbors and head my way. The Mother walked towards me and I walked towards her. “So? IVF?” And I told her my story. I promised to bring W up to her farm next weekend and she made her way back to the road then turned and shouted, “I told ____ to plow out the rest of your drive so you should get on back into your house and be with your son.”

And that is how being infertile got me a plow job.

A few weeks ago I was getting my hair done and a similar conversation happened. Someone remarked on the adorableness of W and I responded that it took me a long time to get him. And FIVE people started talking with each other about infertility. Some customers, some salon employees. One girl was just starting to have the workups done, another conceived her child after 14 years of trying, another had a sister that was going through IVF…

I am incredibly vocal about the path that I traveled in order to become a Mother. It is, perhaps, a luxury of being single because I dive into the sharing of the story very easily without the need of approval from a husband. I talk about it now because I wonder if at some point I will become quieter about it, when it becomes less my story and more W’s story. I talk because I have to create a normalcy for it.

For every person that makes a joke about how fertile they are I feel compelled to shout out how INfertile I am. You know someone that just looks at her husband and gets knocked up? Well I know hundreds of people that spend all of their savings for such a chance.

Being infertile changed me to my core, but I feel such a beautiful and tight sisterhood with women all over the world now. That I can find such a sisterhood at a hair salon or out shoveling snow is quite honestly one of the best things to come out of all of this (well, W is no doubt The Best).

And it makes me wonder- do you talk about it? I mean outside of the blogs or the message boards. Do you find ways to weave your story into every day conversations? What do you say?

Note: There is a poll embedded within this post, please visit the site to participate in this post’s poll.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the snow, and I am totally enjoying this reentry back into a climate with winter, but after soooooooo much anxiety and anticipation and did I mention anxiety???, it kind of sucks to have a snow day cancel such huge plans. We are aiming to get together next weekend. Another week of angst.

Today Mother had a doctor’s appointment with the doc that will be her new primary care physician. (good appointment, great doctor) Bonus was that W and I got to drive in with her and meet friends for lunch. Do you realize how cool it is to just call someone up and say, “wanna do lunch??”

One of the things that was so hard about care-giving for GM was how much of a shut in it made me. There were a few years where I could safely leave her alone and recharge my extroverted batteries, but once we moved to Florida that era was certainly over. And eventually I became this weird hybrid of an forced introvert with longings of social activity. And then I kind of forgot how to be social. And it was common that after a rare dinner with friends I would spend the drive home convinced I had said something stupid or inappropriate or talked too much or not enough…

Today was just easy and nice and simple and I probably said many stupid things but I was ok.

Around this time last year we had to get GM into a nursing facility for around the clock care. I’m having one of those, “holy fuck! What a year!!!!” moments.

And I am just a bit weepy missing my Grandmother and that special and beautiful relationship that we were able to have. A year ago I had no idea what motherhood would feel like, but I had learned, through being GM’s advocate, how to fight. And I think about all of the battles I have had to fight for W and I know that I learned many of the coping skills because of GM.

Oh man I could so easily slide into the deep, deep sad right now and I am yanking myself back. You hear me, sad, I am YANKING back.

Let’s talk about the snow. We could be getting a lot. As in the weather people up here are going bananas and using phrases like, “We are NOT kidding around here!!” I went to the grocery store this afternoon and it was like speed round on Supermarket Sweep (oh man did I love that show)- people were zooming around and ramming into aisles and yelling at their shopping buddies ridiculous things like, ” Get ham!!!!!!! We need HAM!!!!”

My snow weekend necessities: dog food, cat food, toilet paper, formula, frozen pizza, bbq chips

And this guy:

Now here is where this moment may not translate for some of you. There are some people that have never known what it is like to not have health insurance. They are covered by work or a spouse, they get money taken out of a paycheck, they pay a co-pay, they have some sort of plan in place to hopefully protect them should something awful happen with their health.

I used to be one of those people. When I was working a billion hours a week back in a previous incarnation of my adult life I had health insurance and it was a total blessing that I did not fully appreciate. Until I could not get coverage. At all. Even when we were in a position to pay for it I could not get it. Being turned away is something that hardened me.

And honestly, I had grown used to winging it. Saving up so that I could afford to meet with a doctor. Using coupons to get pap smears. Becoming a bit of a spaz about germs and friends with illnesses because I couldn’t afford to see a doctor to get antibiotics.

It’s just a mind blow that a safety net is in place for both of us now.

Of course the final stretch of the insurance quest was not event free. There were a few more set backs, a few more phone calls, more faxes, hours of crying and feeling stupid. When the letter arrived in the mail last week I waited for the feeling of elation to come. I was surprised when it did not. Maybe because I knew there were a few more steps to go.

Being eligible for state insurance was what I was fighting for. That is what I have been going back and forth with for over two months- just fitting into the category of eligibility. Now that we were eligible we had to get enrolled into a plan.

And then we had to find a doctor that was seeing new patients. Then we had to find a doctor that would take state insurance.

I spent nearly three hours this morning on the phone. On the phone with people within the state’s office, with people at the insurance company’s office and about 60 various doctor’s offices.

I was told, “no” so many times. SO many. And I cried a lot. This shit makes me tense and emotional. And it should be easier. I should be selecting a doctor for W based on the doctor not based on whether or not they had “slots still open for state insurance cases”. Way to make a Mom feel like scum.

Because it kind of sucks to hear, “YES! We are taking new patients…just not your son.”

I am learning that fighting is a huge part of parenting. Who knew? I certainly didn’t.

When I finally landed on a pediatrician’s office that was accepting new patients AND the kind of insurance we now have I felt drunk with relief. I gushed profusely to the administrator taking my call. Thanked her with gusto and tried to make the good news call tape over all of the shitty bad news calls of the morning.

It took even longer to find a primary care doctor for myself and a few times I wanted to just stop looking because it felt, I don’t know, like I was pushing my luck or something. Again I was met with a hearty round of calls that flustered and saddened me. YES! to new patients. NO! to patients with state insurance.

I found one practice that was affiliated with a very respected hospital and felt a bit hopeful when I was told YES! and then ‘Please hold’. Surely they wouldn’t keep me on hold that long if the answer was going to be anything other than,”come on down!’ I was wrong. No “slots” for me. But they told me to try another office and that ended up being the magic number.

Again I felt such massive victory at being told YES! and YES! The doctor’s office is a bit further out than I would have preferred, but whatever.

The result: W has a wellness appointment on February 16th and I have an annual well woman exam on February 17th. How cool is that? Very.

Of course I know she won’t think that, or at least I know that it won’t be the only thing on her mind. But the prologue of any story is where we can work this stuff out. I mean isn’t this the perfect time and place to purge this angsty mound of chaotic and complicated and fretful stuff?

Here we go. My list of stuff. In no order except whatever order it is. Meaning what pops into my mind first probably isn’t any more or less important to me than what comes out third or fifth. And the fact that I just referenced ODD numbers doesn’t mean anything either. (sheesh, way to procrastinate the touchy feely stuff…)

1. I am worried about what to wear. Specifically if I should dress up or down. I am wondering if I should go all out with mascara and blush or if I should just cover the zits and chapstick it. If I look too “good” (work with me here) will she hate me (more)? Will she hate me (still)? I worry that if I wear something nice-ish that she will think we are well off.

2. This leads into the worry that she will want/expect/ask for money or financial assistance. I would be happy if money or jobs or housing situations never came into the conversation, but I know it will. And I feel weak for being so knocked down by life’s circumstances and I don’t want to seem weak. And I don’t want to have to explain stuff. Like how we drive a car that might make us seem we are better off but we aren’t.

3. I worry that she will say something about my weight. I remember that she is a bit taller than I am and I remember that where I was always slightly round she was always slightly angular. I know we both had babies recently-ish so there should be a buffer of BMI expectations. But some people have babies and leave the hospital wearing skinny jeans. I didn’t. Is it fucked up to hope that she is plus sized as well?

4. What if her kids don’t like me? What if she doesn’t like my kid? What if she says something mean of hurtful about the way that W was made? What is it going to be like to watch Mother with these kids?

5. Then there is the father stuff. What if she wants to talk about it? Do I want to?

6. Will she have questions for Mother? Will she ask them in front of me?

7. What if I feel a bigger connection that she does? What if I don’t feel anything?

8..What if W screams the entire time, or barfs the entire time, or flings his head back into my chin the entire time and I can’t/don’t relax and everyone at the coffee shop stares and points and we are asked to leave?

9. What if she only wants to meet so that she can hurt me?

10. What if we have nothing to say or say nothing?

11. What happens after coffee?????

I am a person that likes to visualize a situation before it happens. It doesn’t always help because sometimes my Irish imagination will get carried away and I make myself ill with the imagining. I can’t figure out if I should be thinking more or thinking less about this meeting. I know that I just want to connect, but what do I MEAN by that.

Best case scenario seems unattainable and honestly not something that I think I even desire. Best case would be that we hit it off and the day is fun and easy and simple and carefree and no one brings up the past at all. It would be as if I stumbled into a coffee shop and bumped into an old neighbor and then realized we had so much in common and plan on getting together again and often.

Worst case scenario is that she shows up with anger. 2nd runner up to worst would be if she didn’t show up at all.

Middle scenario is what I think I am after here. We both show up with kindness in our hearts and an open mind. We both show up ready to get acquainted and not dwell on the situation of our parent’s divorce. (I need to remind myself that any issues she has about this are NOT about me. I was a baby. I had no say in how custody happened. I need to work on not feeling so guilty for getting the better deal.)

It’s going to change a lot of things- this meeting. It could be amazing grace- what was once lost is now found. Or it could just be coffee.

SCATTERGORIES – it’s harder than it looks! Play here or let me know if you play on your blog. (note to those new to the game: these don’t have to be actual truths. If it helps- replace the word “you” in the questions & substitute it with “someone”.) Play on & use your imagination! Use the first letter of the answer to the first question to come up with answers for the rest.

1. What is the color of your bedspread/quilt/comforter?

2. Something you watch on the weekend

3. Something you wear on the weekend

4. Something you eat on the weekend

5. Something you try to forget on the weekend

6. Something you leave the house for on the weekend

7. Something you plan for the weekend

8.. Something you wish you could do this weekend

I am slowly starting to feel better, slowly ceasing the coughing that is so deep and painful that I can feel it in my toes. The you know what is ebbing away and some energy is coming back.

So we went into DC and took ourselves to a museum. Free! Love that.

W loved riding around in his stroller and the magnificent quality that his voice took on as it bounced back to him against the mostly empty rooms. He gravitated towards people watching as I took in some refreshing culture.

It might be silly, but all the years of dreaming of motherhood, all of the moments where I would sort of glaze over and fantasize what it would feel like, be like, it always ended up as some overly elaborate scene of me walking around a museum with a baby. Not sure why that was- maybe some sort of side order of a reminder that even if parenthood is achieved that I must also still find time for the arts?

Probably I was just always worried that I would dull myself behind a diaper bag. I still worry about that. HAVING a baby was never the end goal- it was parenting. Mothering. Shepherding.

And I know that at nearly ten months of age he isn’t likely to soak in much of the Picasso’s or even the depressing photography exhibits, but maybe, if I keep this up, he will learn how to be still in a crowd. Appreciate the unusual. Gravitate towards vibrant colors or unusual patterns. THIS, this is how I wanted it to be. And it was.

In other news I am on the flip side of being sick. Flip side being the side where I seem to feel better but I sound a whole lot worse. Mucinex and sleep have been my friend. A salt water gargle was NOT after I learned what can happen if you accidentally swallow it. Do not ever do that. Trust me. Just don’t.

What sucks about having weather over me, and I under it, is that all of those awesome to do lists just start to laugh and mock me. The yellow highlighter has been neglected and nothing has been accomplished at all. This is frustrating as I have many things that I really WANT to work on, creative projects, fund-raising organization, merging and organizing my sloppy contact list on my phone…

The last thing I remember is getting my hair done and feeling awesome about it. And then I had a nice visit with Paz and her beautiful family, and after that? It’s all a haze of peppermint, sleep, coughing and Masterpiece classics on PBS.

I’m on the mend though. Just one more night of solid sleep and a few more good chest clearing coughs and I will be on the sunny side of the street once more.

I did promise an update on my last post (like my follow through on that? ha ha) so here are the big ones:

1) I am once again alive on facebook. The security team there was really swift and efficient and kind. It was really freaky to have been hacked, and I feel like a nimrod for having it happen to me, but I went on a password changing binge and purge and feel much more secure about things. (& dude, that is so not a challenge to some asshole out there to prove me wrong. Just saying, Universe.)

2) MANY more phone calls to and from social services have happened and what do you know, I have yet ANOTHER case worker. The latest story was that the delay was because the assistance I had in Florida did not match up with the assistance I was applying for in Maryland. I don’t quite follow what one has to do with the other but after several phone calls that issue seems to have resolved itself. I was asked to “resubmit” all of W’s birth papers. I’ll be following up again tomorrow. I am just charming. (seriously. Once W gets his coverage THEN I will go all Shirley MacLaine.)

3) Mother is currently on her way back from going to a mega career fair. She looked stunning, was armed with copies of her resume and comfortable (yet lovely) shoes, and basically stood in lines for hours before she finally met with the one agency that was advertising as hiring for her field. Only to be told that they aren’t actually hiring anyone until the Spring. Somehow she managed to keep a positive outlook and I am proud of her for that.

4) I feel like there should be a four but I can’t think of anything. Except I guess this is where I seem to forever express my bummed-out-edness that my reader is bursting at the seems again and I haven’t read blogs in ages. I love being caught up and it just isn’t happening right now. blah

5) You are welcome for not writing a post about my epic official PPP. The stuff before never really counted as no apparatuses were employed. I am on day 9 of day 1 type of stuff. If you know what I mean. The zits on my forehead are bitches.

6) And in the nursing parallel universe we have somehow become a twice a day (morning and night) kind of people. I certainly didn’t plan that but the boy seems to have a hollow leg and I simply could not keep up. It’s all just fine though and we are totally enmeshed into exploring solid foods.

7) Here is a brief list of foods that W has gourmand(ed) with his own little hands (aka I am too lazy to puree):

apples, pears, peaches, blueberries, strawberries, melons, cucumbers, zucchini, yellow squash, carrots, green beans, peas, broccoli, cauliflower, sweet potatoes, turkey, ham, pasta, breads, pancakes, waffles, bagels, cinnamon raisin English muffins, yogurt, 50 variations of crackers (graham to saltines) and, of course BANANA!

Mother is now home with a small doughnut for me. Oh I hope I can taste it!

I have red hair again. Woo!

W does his best Winston Churchill impression:

Churchill does his W impression:

Baby deer hang out with us:

I’m in a car at a pediatrician’s parking lot at the moment waiting for N&J to have a check up for little NJ. Speaking of pediatricians makes me realize that I need to update the W insurance list of chaos.

After getting a message two weeks ago from our case worker saying that all is fine, the “situation will be resolved tomorrow’ (with no indication of what, exactly the “situation” could be) I have not had any updates. So I decided to do a round of calls again to check on the status of our application. (I say “our” but it is really just W. Didn’t want anyone to think that I might actually get insurance coverage. Ha ha ha!)

The first call was to my caseworker. I was told she was on another line, given her direct number (woo!) and then transferred to her voice mail. I left a simple message that I was calling to check on the status and that I would go ahead and call the 800 number next.

And then I call the 800 number and get connected after the usual 30 minutes of key padding and hold music. I give my “customer service number” and am told that my application is delayed. Yes. We know this. Any update as to why? And here was his official answer, “sometimes there is just a delay and people get held up for no reason. It is just how it goes. There is a delay in the system.”

Turns out the state has 30 days to process the application. But on midnight of day 29 they issued me a delay letter. The letter stated that it gave them 10 extra days to process. One of the caseworker calls said that it gave them 10-15 extra process days. But now? Now I am being told that the system gets 30 days from the date of the delay letter.

Ahhhhh!! The system. The system is the new man. And the system is bringing me down. It is a system of the down.

I was then told that it could be February until I heard if W had been approved. I blinked at the “IF”.

Me: but isn’t it state law that every child be covered?

Him: Well every like, new baby.

Me: Newborns?

Him: Yes. They are called newborns.

Me: But not infants?

Him: Huh?

Me: Infants. Are they not covered?

Him: Uh. I guess. If infants are babies.

Riiiiiiiiiiiight. I opted not to continue this line of the conversation and went back to February questions. “So what happens in February if W doesn’t have a letter?” Well it turns out that if we don’t hear by February 2^nd that I get to call the 800 number and they will begin an investigation into the specific case and that could take, you guessed it, 30 days.

I really am beginning to wonder if this is wonking up his vaccination schedule. Any thoughts on this? His last round was at his 6 month wellness.

What really frustrates me is that I feel like I am either talked down to like you might placate a hysterical person or that I am not being heard at all. I am invisible.

Speaking of invisible- I no longer exist on Facebook. Turns out some lovely folks high jacked my account and then spent an evening trying to convince friends of mine that I had been robbed at gunpoint in London and needed them to wire me money via a specific link to western union. Thankfully none of my friends fell for it, but it was still rather stressful and icky. The solution was a swift change of my password on my end as well as added security questions. All was good.

Then last night, after taking the dog out around midnight, I decided to log into facebook from my phone so see if there were updates on events from two of my friends. I got the password invalid message. At first I thought I was typing it in wrong- it was, after all a new password and my fingers were not quite nimble with the memory of it.

But no. This morning when I tried to log on from my computer I was informed that my account was disabled and to contact the help section. Only when I clicked on help I got a “this page can not be loaded” message.

Before I left to pick up N&J this morning I asked Mother to just leave a message on my wall to let people know that I was dealing with account issues. Except I no longer exist. There is no me anywhere. At all. Bit of an existential moment there.

In other news I now have a date to meet my sister and her daughters. Early February. Coffee.  We have exchanged a few more pleasant e-mails. They still feel weird. This is probably because I am so very guarded and nervous. But little things are starting to surface and make me realize that this is a path that one cannot unwind. Once we meet, once children are involved, it is a thing. An event.

She asked me the other day what W called Mother. I found this a bit amusing because at the moment he just calls everyone that isn’t me, “Haaaaaaaaaay!!” And then I realized that she wanted to know because she has children that will need to call Mother something. And I had this really powerful moment of sadness over having to share the Grandmother name that Mother and I had created. Of course her kids can call Mother whatever they/she wants and they may not want to use the name W will use. But they might. And I need to get ok with that.

I will be writing more about all of this, of course, but I have to stop now because I just had this wave of emotion. I need to dial it all back.

In the midst of the insurance stuff, and the sister saga, and the N&J shuttling, W and I got to have a play date. It was our first with other babies around his age. And what made it so fucking kick ass awesome was that every child romping on the floor had a Mom from the ALI community. So we didn’t have to deal with all the possible bitter bullshit of mingling with fertile people. Not that being fertile is a bad thing, some of my good friends are fertile and I can still hang with them. Heh.

It’s just awfully lovely to not have to face an unexpected line of conversation about oops babies or the “we just look at each other and make children” or insert your version of gut punch dialogue here.

Here is the only photo I managed to get of the Alphabet people.

Did you see? Yes that is the lovely JJ featured in the photo above. And yes, this means that I got to meet her AND the O-man. And yes she is beautiful inside and out and holy goodness the O-man is just delicious. V was an excellent host to the other alphabet babies and we hope to play there again soon.

Speaking of V means that I get to write about his Mama. One of the best things about moving to this area is that I am finally making new friends. Oh sure we know each other from blogland, but there is just something magical that happens when you end up chilling on someone’s living room floor talking about baby poop, tattoos, and swaying to Mel sing hits from the Beatles on the wiiiiiiii.  V’s Mama is the kind of woman that has a solution to everything. I feel like her theme song is that 80’s hit, “aint nothing gonna break my stride”.

When I was lamenting the latest insurance woes with the room at large one of my moments of pout was that I didn‘t know how much W weighed. I don’t have a scale and I was going by the wellness visits to keep track and yadda yadda sad song. Well V’s Mama just nodded at me, validated my sadness and then swooped up the W and declared that we were going to find out how much he weighed right then and there. It was just something simple and easy but it helped chill me out so much.

And now we know that W weighs 22 pounds. So why is it that I do not have biceps to be proud of??

I am still totally behind on news and posts from our community and I hate that. I am also way delayed in setting up the fundraising for Michell and I feel awful about it. I will say that it looks like we are going to do a simple eBay auction so hopefully soon-ish we will have a spreadsheet set up so that those that wish to be involved can do so. I can’t wait!

But oh the bliss of meeting a new baby and seeing a family welcome her after years and years of sadness. Little NJ is such a cutie and an old soul. She has these elegant long fingers and the squishiest baby cheeks. It has been a delight to be able to watch N & J become Mothers.

And damn it if it didn’t start the fucking clock. You would think that my body would know that NOW is not such a good time for the lusting of a sibling for W. Jobless, mere months from uncertain living situation, no insurance, and no savings. And yet the ripple of babylust is there. The desire to have one more sticking her toe into my heart. I think it is the combination of meeting a new baby AND the reconnecting with my sibling that is making the emotion sing through even when it is totally inappropriate.

But yes. I want another one. Some day. I just wish the circumstances of my life could match up with my desires. And then of course there is that, “can I really go through another 5 years of trying??” angst that is pressing me. And age. And, and, and…

Next week Mother is going to this massive job fair in the area. She still applies for several jobs a day and touches base with the legal staffing places weekly. There is some frustration. I think we both thought that moving to the mid-Atlantic was going to be a huge leap towards the job market. I know we got here smack dab in the holidays and that hiring goes down at the end of the year. We are so so so ready for the page to turn in this chapter. It feels so unfamiliar to be this dependant on the kindness of friends to make it through. We are used to being the ones helping others. And now we are the ones that leave friend’s houses with bags of pasta and cans of veggies. Our chins are up, but the bruises are not fading from all of the knocks of life.

Well I can’t end with that waft of melancholy so I am going to share a W photo. It makes me smile. Most days that is enough. Other days I watch the muppets. See the post below.