New Midlife Mommy

Be Careful Who You Trust

So, you may have been wondering why I haven't been here much.  You may think that it's because of my miscarriage.  And in a way, it is.  But it's more than that.

It's hard to believe that it's been a year since I lost my baby, though I haven't had a year of healing.  I've been waiting to write this post, thinking that I've gotten it wrong, that there aren't people out there who could be so amazingly insensitive, uncaring, and cruel.  Ah, but I would be wrong!

While my grief was sharp and my eyes raw, someone that I've communicated with once in awhile over the years reached out to me.  She has always been nice.  And funny.  And I used to like to read her blog.  She read my blog as well.  She commented.  I commented.  She is a DE mom, just like me.  And she says she is Christian, just like me. 

I mentioned that someone had offered us the opportunity to adopt her embryos last year, and yes, it was this person.  I was surprised when she approached me, because I remember her writing about giving her embryos to another couple a few years ago.  Apparently, that didn't happen.

At first, I didn't think I could do it.  I was still in a lot of pain. And, honestly, I was angry about what happened too.  But, while I was completely prepared for a negative pregnancy test that morning last August, I admit I was emotionally weak.  I couldn't understand why we lost the baby.  If it wasn't intended for us, then why did it happen?  So, while in that state, I convinced my husband to try again.  To give these embryos a chance to be raised in a loving family.  (With a rock star big sister, I might add!)

He wasn't immediately on board with this.  After all, it's a big step.  He had no idea who this person and her husband were.  And honestly, neither did I, because how much can you really know someone through brief exchanges on the Internet?  But, once again, he agreed to support me. So, I said we would love to accept the unbelievable offer.

I tried to do everything that was asked.  Phone calls when she asked for them.  Long emails that discussed feelings and expectations.  Working with my clinic to find out what was necessary.  After she signed a release, having my clinic call her clinic to find out about whether the embryos were properly labeled and asking questions about how they'd been frozen.  Hiring an attorney and going back and forth through no less than four versions of the agreement to try to make sure that everything that she said was important to her was in there before it was ever sent to her.  And making the one minor change that she requested.

There were little clues, I suppose.  After our long telephone discussion toward the end of last year, during which she said she knew that I wanted to wrap things up quickly, she didn't answer my emails in January.  Or in February.  With my husband's encouragement, I called her.  The first time, she said she was too busy to talk and that she'd call back.  Except she didn't.  I called again.  This time she could talk.  Emails?  Nope, hadn't gotten those.  Must have been caught in the spam filter.  Are you sure you haven't changed your mind?  No, we haven't changed our mind, and you can always call me at this number.  If I can't answer, I'll will always call back.  We've talked about this, and it's the right thing to do.  Would you please tell us if you change your mind?  Of course, but we are certain.

I sent the agreement and heard nothing.  Inquired.  Maybe it was the spam filter?  Sent it again.  No response.  After two weeks of nothing, all of a sudden, I'm told they are fine with the agreement.  Honestly, it sounded as though this was the first time that she and her husband had discussed some of the more significant issues relating to embryo donation (or at least that was my interpretation based on some of the things she shared).  But OK, I was glad they'd reached an understanding with each other, and I was glad that they shared it with me so that we could respect their wishes.  We were moving forward.  Contract would be placed in the mail the next day.  I went for blood work and a hysterosonography, which was an additional out of pocket expense.  Her husband was going to go for blood work the next day.

Except he didn't go for blood work.  (Actually, I think this was the third time he was supposed to go "right away" for blood work and didn't.)  And the contract didn't arrive in the mail.  I called and asked about it, and she acted surprised, because she said that they'd had it notarized the very next day after she emailed me, and then they'd put it in the mail.  I asked if she could forward another copy.  Of course!

Except it never came.  I followed up by email.  Then through a Facebook message.  And then I called.  Went to voice mail.  I left a message and said that I was just following up, since we'd not received anything in the mail - was everything OK?  No return call.  I called again a few days later and said that I wasn't trying to be a pest, but could she please tell me where we were?  And, if she'd changed her mind, would she please tell me so that I wouldn't need to keep calling?  Nothing.  Not even an email to tell me to f*ck off and quit bothering them.

It's been well over a month now since my last call to her.  In fairness, when we first started talking about going forward, I learned that she'd had a really terrible family loss.  I would have understood if she didn't want to go through with it.  But she insisted that this was important, she wanted to give the embryos a chance, and it just seemed right to her.  And a few months ago, she had a health scare herself, but she also told me that she was adjusting well, things were fine, and we were moving forward.  So, frankly, I don't know what her issue is because she hasn't bothered to tell me.  She did confide that they were disputing the amount of storage fees that their clinic wanted to charge them, and in one of my last voice mails, I said that we would help with that if that is what the issue was.

It hurts.  It hurts.  I'm back to crying when I see a baby.  Why wouldn't I?  I never had a chance to work through that because we've been strung along for almost a year now.  And each of the times when she wouldn't return my emails or my calls, the tears were always right there, just under the surface, breaking through without warning.

What's even worse is how to talk about the finality with DD.  She really wanted that baby we lost.  She has been asking still about having a brother or sister.  I want to be a big sister mommy.  Will I ever be a big sister?  Because I believed we were going forward with the embryo adoption, I hedged my bets with her, telling her that you never know.  If God is willing, then it will be.  But, apparently, she will not ever be a big sister.  And she would be a good one.  And it s*cks that she will not be a big sister.  And it s*cks that I wasted a year of my life dealing with this person at the expense of any other option. 

I guess you really can't trust people that you meet on the internet.  And you should never, ever trust them in matters of the heart.

Hey, The New York Times Writers Must Be Reading My Blog!

Or maybe not.  Just coincidence, I'm sure. 

Very interesting article though, titled "Who's on the Family Tree?  Now It's Complicated."

Yes, it sure can be.

 

 

 

Things I Wonder About

Why I can't ever seem to part my hair in a straight line the first time.

Why the bread always falls buttered side down.

Why I'm having problems with both feet lately (and never had any issues before).

Why I really, really hate going to the park.  Really.  Hate.  Park.

Why every d*amned time I need to get somewhere on time, my 50-55 minute drive home lasts over an hour and a half.  Every.  D*amned.  Time.

Why winter lasts forever and summer just flies by.

Why I can never seem to find enough time to do the "me" things that I really love to do.

Why can't ever remember how to say "nuclear" anymore.  Thanks George.

Why I can't seem to find a local breeder for Siamese kittens.  I really miss having one.

Why I can't ever seem to save money if it's not deducted right out of my check.

And, on a similar note, why my credit card balances seem to be the same, year after year after year, no matter how many multiples of the minimum balance I pay.

Why there wasn't at least one of the Casey Anthony jurors who thought there was enough evidence to convict her for murdering that little sweetheart.

Why even children's yoga is so much harder for me than it is for my daughter (and why does she have to laugh so hard at me?).

How about you?

They Like Me! They Really Do!

(Kudos to the first person to guess where the title came from.  No money, just kudos.)

I'm embarrassed to say that I'm just as bad at visiting my own blog (have you noticed?) as I am looking at blog stats.  But today, I just noticed referrals from two sites, one that I'm aware of, and one that's new:

40 Awesome Blogs for Midlife Moms

The Boomer Chronicles

I've never heard of the first site, because it is geared toward nursing, but I am certainly going back to explore the links.  I have the Boomer Chronicles on my own blog list, but it is more broad in scope, linking to and discussing all things boomer - which yes, includes moms like me, though that's really just one small facet of being a boomer.  Thought I'd share, because these blogs might be of interest to you too. 

I just love the fact that there are more and more midlife mom blogs.  I started writing because I didn't know any "older" moms (still don't, really), and I didn't have anyone that I was really close to who was going through infertility treatments.  Now, it seems as though I have a lot of company, and to that I say the more the merrier!

(Updated to add - I meant to say I'm happy to share my older mom status, not the infertility stuff, because well, that part really s*cks.)

Recently Overheard At Our House

DD:    AAAAAHHHH.  NOOOOOOO.  Mommy, DON'T FLUSH THE POTTY!!

Me:    Um, why not, DD?  We need to flush the potty after you go.

DD:    I don't want to say.

Me:    It's OK sweetie, why don't you want me to flush the potty?

DD:    You know.

Me:    Um, the -

DD:    DON'T SAY IT MOMMY!!!!

Me:    (whispers) you mean . . . the wolves?

DD:    AAAAAHHHH.  You said it mommy!  You said it mommy!

[DD has been afraid of wolves since she saw one on a Little House on the Prairie rerun and the Martha Speaks cartoon.]

Me:    OK, DD.  What does the thing-that-I-can't-mention have to do with the potty?

DD:    (Points to the top tank and whispers)  Up there, mommy.

[We have one of those pull chain toilets]

Me:    I don't really think anything is up there.  How about if we look up there?  I'll hold you tight, and nothing will hurt you.  I promise, and you know I always tell you the truth.

DD:    (looks unconvinced but agrees)

[Ugh.  Lifting 43 pound child.]

Me:    See?  Nothing there, right?

DD:    No, mommy.

Me:    So, no -

DD:    SHHHHHH, mommy.  DON'T SAY IT!

Me:    OK, I won't say it.

DD:    But they're there mommy.  They just aren't up there now.

Me:    Well, where did they go?

DD:    They went down the pipes.

Me:    (pointing to pipes that are about 2" in diameter) Those pipes? 

DD:    (nods)

Me:    DD, how does a you-know-what fit down the pipe?

DD:    (gives me a well, du-uh look) They shrink mommy.

Me:    Oh.  Well how do they breathe?

DD:    (another duh look)  They have scuba equipment, of course.

Me:    Oh.  How does a -

DD:    DON'T SAY IT MOMMY!

Me:    OK, OK.  Well how does one of those get scuba equipment?

DD:    Moom-meeee . . . they buy it of course.

Me:    Oh.  Really?  Where?

DD:    At the store, where you would buy it.  Geez, mommy.

Me:    But DD, if they've gone down the pipes, then they've gone to the sewer where everything else goes, so no worries!

DD:    No, mommy.  They come up into the water part under the lid.

Me:    Well how can they come up when the water is flushing down?  Wouldn't the water push them away?

DD:    They are very good swimmers mommy, just like me.

Me:    OK.  So the reason that we can't flush the potty is because there may be a you-know-what that shrinks down to microscopic size while wearing scuba gear that might come up into the bowl?

DD:    Exactly.  That's what I've been trying to tell you!

Me:    [Sigh.  There's just no arguing with that.]

 

 

What? Two Posts In Two Days?

I know!  The next thing I was going to tell you about are the creatures who live in our potties (no, not literally), but instead, I just wanted to write briefly about a new blog that I found.  I'm guessing that if you are a regular reader, you just might be a mom over 40.  (Or maybe someone trying to be a mom over 40 who hasn't made it yet - hugs to you, and I hope that this year was the last effing mother's day that you spend without a little one).

If you are a midlife mom, or even a woman of "advanced maternal age" (hello, > 35 year olds!), then you might want to check this blog out.  I found it through a recent comment.  I've been in such a time crunch lately that I don't have the chance to spend as much time as I would like reading blogs.  I'm grateful for the fact that I can get posts to this blog by email, and I like what I've read so far.

Enjoy.

What is Concealed is Eventually Revealed

I am in love with genealogy.  And that's putting it mildly.  Obsessed would be a better term.  Because of this interest, I often wonder how DD will view the family tree.  Will she accept that she's been adopted into mine?  Or will she think of genetics as everything, and reject my half of the family?  That would well and truly break my heart, but I would understand it at some level.  After all, didn't I have those same thoughts as I struggled with the idea of using donor eggs, and didn't I think that somehow meant the baby wouldn't be "my" child?  Ridiculous in hindsight, but it was a real struggle for me to get from there to here, where I don't even think about it anymore.

One of the things that has struck me as very interesting is the increasing usage of DNA testing to help with genealogical research.  Costs have come down significantly.  Researchers are cautioned to work on their paper records and then use genetic testing to help make connections, but I suspect as the cost decreases further, caution will be thrown to the wind and people will begin their search with DNA.  I've mentioned this in at least one online community focused on people who've used donor gametes, and my comment was met with - silence.  No one wants to consider this as an issue at the moment, especially those who don't want to tell (the minority), but it is an issue worth considering.

One of the things I never, ever want to happen with DD is for her to find out that we aren't related through a genetic test.  Or at a doctor's visit when family history is important.  Or, even worse, through a whispering from family or friends.  We didn't make a secret of our journey, and while most have forgotten, I'm sure some remember.  I think that would be an amazing betrayal of trust for DD to find out from someone other than me.  While I know that I know that I know that I am her mother, hiding her creation story would cause more of a rift between us than being honest would, I think. 

I'm not sure when the telling will occur, but I suspect the time is getting closer.  "Your eyes are hazel, and daddy's eyes are dark brown - where did my eye color come from?"  "You like red, daddy likes blue, and you made me, and I like purple!"  "The President is part Black and part White?  How does that happen, mommy?"  "I'm part Italian?  What is daddy?  What are you?"  I answer, speaking in measured truth, because my daughter has a frighteningly accurate memory.  She would certainly catch a misstep that I might make because I'm not certain she's ready to hear.  So I try not to make them.

Even if she were older and had the money to do it, it would be hard for DD to use genetic testing to learn the truth about our relationship, at least as I understand the current state of DNA and maternal line testing.  But that is just for now, and that may not be the case when she gets older.  Which is why I found this article ("Are You My Mother?") very, very interesting.

You know, I've recently learned that my grandfather might just have been on the way when his parents were married.  A scandal in those times, though not today.  (Actually, it made me smile, because my great grandmother never smiled in any of the photos taken of her - it tells me she wasn't always so crabby!).  How did I learn this?  Simple, actually.  Her notation in the family bible shows her marriage in one year, and my grandfather's birth in the next.  I believed that to be true, until I found the official marriage register, which recorded the return date of the completed marriage license, and that told me that my grandfather came along about five months after his parents were married.  So, the story that I was told from childhood about my grandfather being a preemie was probably to cover up in case the neighbors noticed anything amiss.  Surely, finding the truth about things is just going to get easier in the future.

"There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known.  What you have said in the dark will be heard in the daylight, and what you have whispered in the ear in the inner rooms will be proclaimed from the roofs."  Luke 12:2-3.

True words, indeed.

Giving To Get?

(Warning:  religion discussed - if that offends you, please just click onward)

I haven't been good at going to church in my life.  I was lucky if I were one of the C & E'rs (Christmas and Easter goers).  Many years, it was just Christmas Eve (and let's be candid - sometimes, I even missed that service).  Notwithstanding, I did send sporadic contributions to the church over the years.  My brother, who attended church only once after confirmation (for his wedding), and who never contributed, was eventually removed from the rolls after multiple contacts, because helloooo - that's really not belonging, is it?  (He can come back any time he wants - he just looks sad and/or snarky when it comes up but doesn't make any effort to, you know, actually go to church.)

My current church has a long history for me.  My parents and grandparents belonged to a church (let's call it M), and it merged with another church into P.  My parents were married at P.  I was baptized there.  I would have been married there, but my impeccable timing put my wedding date after P's building was sold but before yet another congregational merger occurred.  We ended up getting married at another church that was very pretty and part of my larger church organization, but the staff made it fairly clear that we were an inconvenience to them (even though we paid them for everything), because you know, that's certainly what Jesus would do!

So, moving forward, P's congregation eventually combined with another church to become H.  And that is how things were when DD was born.  I wanted to have her baptized, and so did DH, even though he's not really into the church thing.  He's one of those "non-practicing" people.  The minister then, who is still the minister now, did everything he possibly could to convince me to go to another church, simply because we live quite a distance from the church (about a 45 minute drive, actually).  He didn't think it was fair to DD if she wanted to get involved in church activities as she grew older, and he didn't think it was fair to the congregation, who had to commit to support us while we raised her and would likely never see her.  I remember being upset about this and telling DH that I felt that he was trying to kick me out of the only church I'd known, though that was probably the post-partum hormones thinking for me.  Anyway, in the end, he agreed to baptize DD.  And I've felt guilty in my absence for the last six flipping years, because you know, he was right.  It's hard to be part of the body of the church from a distance.

From time to time, I've mentioned going to church again.  DH was silent about that, undoubtedly hoping that this too will pass, because hellloooo, Sunday is the only day we have to sleep in.  But, I finally worked out the logistics in my head, to include the every other Sunday visit to my dad in the calculation (why yes, we still are going through my mother's stuff - why do you ask?).  And off we went.  (Much to DH's chagrin, I'm sure, but he's there to set a good example, and I commend him for that.)

DD has really enjoyed going to Sunday school, and frankly, she is having more fun than I remember having.  But, recently, DH asked me if I knew that they were trying to convince DD to give to church by giving her a "Bible Buck" if she made a contribution.  WTF?  The Sunday after he told me, I ran into the church secretary and asked about it (since she is one of the Sunday school organizers).  She said that yes, indeed, DD would get a Bible Buck if she contributed, but she would also get one for doing any number of things - attending church, wearing a name tag, answering questions about what they've learned that day, bringing a friend, etc.  Mmmkay.  I suppose that kind of makes sense - they are rewarding stewardship.  I used to give DD Skittles to help her potty train, and she doesn't need them now.  Perhaps this works the same way, I thought.  But giving someone a reward for a contribution just seemed like the wrong thing to do.

Now, it just so happened that DD had brought one of her own dollars in to church the day we asked the church secretary about the Bible Bucks program.  And, it was "family Sunday" that day, where the children stay with their parents for the service.  I'd heard that it was family Sunday, but since I wasn't familiar with the current practices, I wasn't certain exactly what that meant and didn't ask because, hey, anything to do with "family" must be good, right?  The secretary said that if we filled out a pew envelope with DD's name on it and the letters "SS" (for Sunday school) she would get "credit" for her contribution.  Mmmkay.

DD was really disappointed about not having Sunday school that day, and I felt bad because we hadn't warned her what to expect.  But she did well and didn't fuss too much, even though it wasn't all that interesting to her.  Just before the offering, DD and I completed the pew envelope as instructed.  When the plate arrived, I told DD to put it in.  She turned her head toward me and said "you do it."  Thinking that actually meant that I should, you know, put it in the plate (silly me!), I put the envelope in the plate. 

And then DD started to cry.  And cry.  And cry.  Silent, big tears.  And she wouldn't tell me why.  Later on, she finally told me that she was upset because she didn't think she would get a Bible Buck because she hadn't put her dollar in the Sunday school collection.

Bingo.  This is exactly what was bothering me about the whole Bible Buck thing.  So we discussed the framework for giving - that everything belongs to God, but He would like us to contribute to our church, or community, or our fellow man, but only if it is freely and from the heart.  Not because someone will give us something, but because it is the right thing to do - for example, her tummy is usually full of good food, but not everyone is so blessed, and it is our job to help those who don't have enough food.  Or a place to stay.  Or clothes to wear.  And I gave her back her dollar and made her promise never to give again unless it came from her heart.  I also sent an email to the church secretary explaining what had happened and asking them to talk about why we give in Sunday school (without saying how antithetical to the bible that I thought the whole Bible Bucks in exchange for contributions was).

I don't know if I handled this the right way or not, but I really do think rewarding kids for contributing to the church really sends the wrong message.  Yes, I know that adults get a benefit on their income tax returns for charitable contributions, but it's not the same.  To perhaps get a small portion back of what you gave months ago - but only if you itemize - isn't much of a motivator, I don't think.

I guess I'll find out after she grows up if I've had an impact on her to become a cheerful giver, or if she is uncharitable because her heart moves her more to buy that new pair of shoes than it does to help others.  I hope it's the latter, I really do.

We Interrupt Our Regularly Scheduled Programming To Bring You . . .

Lice!  Yes, lice.  Creepy, skreepy, yucky, ucky, ooey, gooey (gooey?), m*ther f*cking LICE!

Shortly before Christmas, DD's principal notified the parents that there had been a case of lice in DD's room.  After that, DD and her classmates were subjected to daily head searches (from both the school and required of us, as though we actually knew what we were looking for - um, ew?), bagging of her personal possessions, enforced personal distance, a requirement that we put her hair up (which she freaking hates), and a demand that we wash her coat and accessories on an almost daily basis.  Which, of course, made for an overall skeevy feeling whenever we walked into her classroom.

It happened again in January.  Lather.  Rinse.  And repeat in March. Needless to say, I was p*ssed.  Because really?  How freaking hard could it be to get rid of a case of lice?  We'd heard it was the same kids over and over, with the occasional new kid infected - so who were the parents who weren't working at it hard enough?  (I know, not fair, but seriously - three times?)

In an effort to eradicate the lice, the school brought in the equivalent of a nuclear bomb - a professional lice brigade!  Who inspected everyone's head.  And guess what?  Ah, yes.  They found a nit in DD's head.  DD and three other children were forced to sit in the principal's office until mom and/or dad came to get them.  How embarrassing.  (And totally unnecessary, really, because helloooo . . . this has been going on for months.)  The third bout with lice turned out to be, well, not exactly a charm for DD.

When I arrived at the school, after I hugged my poor daughter who I imagine was feeling a bit like Typhoid Mary,* the principal handed me an index card with a taped "sample" from DD's head.  It was a nit, but holy cow - it was about half the size of a typed "." and completely unlike any of the pictures that I'd Googled.  Oh, and did I mention that it was also brown and matched her hair color exactly?  I now know that I would need a magnifying glass to see a nit.  They told us that we could keep the card as a souvenir.  Yay! 

Have I mentioned lately that even though DD has her own room, she still sleeps with us?  Next to me?  So, yes, I was little freaked out.  But, I'd already learned from the lice brigade's website that they offered a heat dryer treatment that was guaran-effing-teed to get rid of lice and eggs.  FDA approved.  One treatment.  One clean up.  All gone.  The price was a little steep ($145), but it included a lot of product, the head inspections (for everyone), and the heat treatment (for one person). 

The lice brigade's "boutique" (not their real name, of course) was located about an hour away from us.  I called them on my way to pick DD up.  Can you see us today?  How about in an hour?  Is an hour good for you?  I couldn't get an appointment until 2:30 that day, and it wasn't soon enough.  I told DH that he would need to meet us there, and everyone was going to get a head check.

All the way there, my head itched (and honestly, it has been itching a little bit the week before).  I was absolutely convinced that it was total party time on MM - because I could feel them moving people!!  Ewwww.  But, after the inspection, it turned out that DD was newly infected, because she had about 20 nits, nothing living, and DH and I were clean.

I thought that can't be true!  But it was.  I apparently just had a dry scalp that day.  And all movement that I felt was all in my head, not on my head.  I asked if I could be treated anyway, just in case.  The woman looked at me as if I were a bit nuts, and said that a lice treatment wouldn't be necessary for me, because, you know, I didn't actually have lice. 

DD loved the blow trying treatment.  Afterward, they put some yucky stuff in her hair and wrapped it in a plastic bag, which I think was supposed to dissolve any nit glue in her hair so that all debris would be washed away (it looked gross).  She only needed to leave it on for ten minutes, but our drive was much longer than that.  We left with an enzyme that supposedly dissolved both eggs and bugs that you could spray on furniture if you wanted, a super duper nit comb that I didn't need (because they combed DD's hair out), as well as some repellent (which aggravated my asthma for a week and totally wasn't worth it - I think it was made of eucalyptus and citronella).

I did learn some interesting things about these little effers, since we spent quite a bit of time at the lice boutique that day and I didn't have anything else to do except ask 50 million questions:

• Lice like clean hair, and maybe one of the reasons why they are being reported frequently these days is because we wash our hair more than we used to.  I do not ever remember hearing about lice when I was in school, but I also didn't wash my hair every day either - maybe this is why we didn't hear about them?
• Lice really can't move around very well when they aren't in your hair.  If you've ever seen a picture of one, it makes sense.  They have little claw like legs in the front, and a big butt - but no back legs!  You could point and laugh if one fell onto a counter; they aren't going anywhere.  It would be like having no legs and having to crawl around using your elbows.  Really inefficient.
• The over the counter products don't work, because hellooooo, they haven't changed the formulation in years, and the lice laugh - yes, they laugh - when you coat them with this junk.  (I just threw in the laugh part; I think they probably just smirk a bit.)  Honestly, based on what other moms have told me, I think that it's the daily use of the nit comb and good house cleaning - more than the over the counter insecticide - that gets rid of them.
• The forced clothes washing?  Hah!  More laughter from the lice, because they can old their breath for up to eight hours.  They could care less if you wash your clothes.  Wash them twice!  (Snicker.)
• Now as for the drying part, well, they don't like that very much.  All you need to do is use the dryer on timed high heat for 30 minutes, and presto!  Bugs and eggs - all gone.  (Insert maniacal laughter here, because I am empowered now.)  Things that can't be put in the dryer can just be put in a plastic bag for two weeks, or in the freezer for 24 hours.
• Lice are transmitted from one person to another through the obvious - sharing hats, touching heads, sharing hairbrushes - but they are also fabulous trapeze artists.  They actually can swing from an infected head to a non-infected head in a flash, and the hair barely has to touch.  Apparently, they are less inclined to trapeze over to a new head if the new head has the stinky repellent on it - kind of like you might not be inclined to walk into a kitchen where they were cooking  something that you really hate eating.  (I say that the repellent is "stinky" just because it makes me wheeze; I suppose it doesn't smell all that offensive to someone without asthma.)
• Head lice do not spread disease.
• According to our state's website, you don't have to empty the vacuum after your home clean up, unless of course you want to (they can't crawl around, remember?)
• The whole point of the clean up is to pick up any hairs that have fallen out of an infected head that might contain a nit, because the lice can hatch any time up to two weeks later.  So, I really didn't need to freak the f*ck out because I stupidly put my purse on the floor at the lice boutique in the treatment room - just a quick whisk with a lint remover was all that was necessary.
• Lice really can't live for very long away from a host.  They say that they can live up to 48 hours without a meal, but our state's website suggested that it really is only a matter of hours or even less.

I'd emailed our pediatrician right after we heard that there had been a third infestation but before I knew that DD was affected, because I've always felt that forewarned is forearmed.  She suggested something that actually suffocates the lice and is inexpensive to use (not an insecticide).  But the downside of that would be the daily clean up for the two week period, because the nits could still hatch.  I prefer the heat treatment, frankly. 

It's taken me awhile to write this post, and right now, we are at the point where we are ready to take our things out of plastic bags, and this is the end of the last week to wear her hair up.  Oddly, DD's been asking when she can go back to the lice boutique again, because she thought the blow dryer treatment was so much fun!

Eh.  I think I'll pass on that.

 

 

* - Though Typhoid Mary wasn't nearly as cooperative as DD.

Hello Out There

I appreciate all of the kind words and comments.  And I'm still around.  I just haven't been visiting here very much because I haven't wanted to think about my feelings.  Much healthier to push them down and ignore them!  (Not.  Well, at least it's easier.  Mostly.)

Not much to report.  I was hopeful about the embryo adoption, but I don't know if that's going to come through or not.  The person who made the wonderful offer has some really devastating issues in her life to address at the moment, and I understand that this isn't a priority.  I don't want to be a pest, even though I still feel on pins and needles about the opportunity.

You know, I've always been an action oriented kind of person.  If there is something I want to accomplish, then I go after it and get it done.  I can be pretty focused and driven.  A mountain you say?  Well, I'll go around it.  Or through it.  Or over it.  Or blast it out of the way.  But I can't do anything, because the ball isn't in my court.  And that's hard for me.  The only action that I could take right now is to choose a new donor and start over.  But I don't think I have it in me to do that.

Sometimes, and especially lately, I've been wondering what it would have been like to have lived a different life, one where I would have married young, had no fertility issues, had my two babies (or more!), and enjoyed getting older as I watched them grow and give me grandchildren.  Instead, here I am, hyperventilating and sad, still thinking about the child that I lost and still jealous of all the babies and bellies around me.  Recently, I learned that someone at work will be a dad in April, which is the month that my baby would have been born.  My daughter's after-care teacher is due in June.  It's hardly seems fair, though I know that life isn't fair, and I know that there are people with a lot more sorrow than I have.  A friend of mine just lost his precious granddaughter of 13 months.  Unimaginable.  But my sadness for him doesn't make my pain less.  I miss my own baby dammit.

At some level, I'm mad at DH.  On the one hand, he's gone along with all of the cycles, so maybe it's unfair to have these feelings.  After all, he did put up with all of the bullsh*t that was part and parcel of all of that.  But, he's also fought me tooth and nail each step of the way.  No interest in adoption.  Argued against Clomid, because it could cause multiple births.  Argued against IUI with injections, same reason.  Argued against IVF, same reason.  Argued against the first donor cycle, same reason.  Argued against using the left over embryos, this time because he was ostensibly too old (that argument has continued).  Oh, and we always had to transfer only one embryo where possible, which reduced the possibility of success (since they were always three-day embryos).  Surprise!  We haven't gotten younger with all the arguing and delay.  So yes, still p*ssed about all of that, even though I think he's the best dad in the world and would love another child (and yes, he does admit that he would love another child, and he's tired of talking about this, and we should just do it already dammit).  I think part of it may be due to the fact that DH lost his father when DH was 17, and it also may be due to the fact that he's the most involved dad I know.  It still makes me laugh when my own father tells DH that DH is a much better dad that he was.

My daughter is such a beautiful little girl.  She's beautiful, smart, graceful, kind, and has a delightful sense of humor.  I still can't believe that I get to be her mother.  I don't ever mean to sound ungrateful about that, and in my fantasies about having had my babies early, she is part of that dream.  But I want her to have a brother or sister.  I am enjoying her so much, and I know that another child would bring even more joy.

It still makes me want to cry.  (Sh*t, I do cry, who am I kidding?)  So I push it out of my thoughts.  When I do think about it, it feels like the window of opportunity is closing for me, this time for good.  I'm not even sure why I'm feeling that way right now, because I've always been one of those people who believe that you should follow your heart where it leads, even if it isn't where or when you expect.  My parents' next-door neighbor fostered an older child when she was in her 50's and eventually adopted her long after her two boys were grown, so you just never know what might happen.  (Of course, their next-door neighbor was [and still is] quite a b*tch, so now she has three children who wouldn't walk across the street to do you-know-what to her if she were on fire, but I digress.)

Wouldn't it be grand to have a crystal ball that works to know how this will all turn out in the end?