Sunday, January 30, 2011

the lunch

Blogging is a good procrastination tool. I am utilizing it at this moment. I should be doing my revisions, but I just don't wanna. We all know how this ends. Reason will win. I will do my revisions. So, why not take 20 minutes, drop the inner conflict and write a posting to update you on the lunch.

This has been a better weekend for me overall. I didn't resist Monday morning as soon as I got home on Friday night. I just knew it was there ahead of me, but that I didn't need to fight it. I could still enjoy all the moments of my weekend. My anxiety about work is still strong, but I am learning slowly that I can do this job and it's not miles ahead of my competencies. It just requires a bit of reaching sometimes, which is great for someone who gets all jazzed up about learning. And Mr. August and I are doing ok with the adjustment.

This Wednesday is our big orientation meeting at the clinic. I've decided to take the day off and drive back home on Tuesday night, so that all three of us can drive to the appointment together. We'll all drive back together that day, and I will return to work on Thursday morning. A ton of back and forth this week, but it does mean I'm only sleeping in FTT for 2 nights, instead of 4. That will make my Chicken happy. I'm looking forward to the appointment because it means that we are actually getting this party started. I asked Sattva this morning if she felt ready for needles. I think her answer was something like "I'm ok with it. I just think it will be strange to inject myself with a needle". Yes. It is totally weird the first time. I remember being quite freaked out, but getting the hang of it pretty fast. She will too, as you all have, dear readers.

The lunch yesterday went very well. Sattva, C., J. and I all know each other from grad school and enjoy being able to catch up with each other, something that's harder when people get close to are actually graduate. They were happy to hear that Sattva would join us for lunch. Our usual lunch trio includes J., C. and I. We've been doing this every 2 months for the past 2 years. J. and C. are dear friends and have been incredibly supportive. The lunch where I shared with them that the fertility treatments had failed was the same lunch that C. announced she was pregnant. It was hard for all three of us. But I decided that day that I wouldn't let infertility take my friendships away. C. has always been very considerate and caring in talking about her pregnancy and her baby, always staying mindful that it would potentially be hard for me to hear. C. now has a 9-month-old baby and because she brought the baby along, her time at lunch was a bit limited (soon-to-be toddlers don't appear to enjoy sitting at a French bistro, eating delicious food, sipping wine at lunch and chatting for hours. go figure). By the time C. had to leave, we hadn't got to the part about revealing that Sattva is the egg donor. I was feeling a bit sad about that, since I wanted to reveal it so as to make it more real.

C. and baby left, but J., Sattva and I lingered a while longer. My friendship with J. is quite close and I would have told her who the donor was a long time ago, except that I felt that because she knows Sattva, I wanted to wait until it was a bit more concretized to say it. More importantly, I wanted to make ultra sure that Sattva was ok with telling people she knows. As soon as C. left, J. couldn't contain herself and asked if we could talk about the DE IVF. She pieced it together pretty fast that Sattva was the donor, and bless her heart, she started weeping once it was confirmed. Not just crying, but weeping. Sattva and I were a bit stunned, but as anyone with a heart would do in this situation, we also started to cry (thankfully, we were in a booth, reducing the spectator effect for those in the vicinity). J. is a very open hearted person, someone who wears her heart on her sleeve. She proceeded to tell Sattva how hard it had been to watch me go through the devastation of not being able to have a child with my own eggs. She talked about the lunch (described above) when I said the treatments had failed, and how she went home and cried that day, cursing the universe that I couldn't have children. J. had promised herself to tell the donor, once she found out, that she was so grateful that she could do this for me. J. was just so moved. And so were we.

I think about the crappy comments, avoidant behaviour, uncomfortable silences, glossings over that I have encountered when I've risked talking my infertility. Those all seem to fade when I think of how some of my friends have responded. Sattva is of course a cardinal example.  J., as you saw in my description, has also been amazing. There are others like Oat, Dragonfly, and Themis (yes, that would be you in our nation's capital). And others still (I'm just running out of pseudonyms).

It's tempting to tie all of this up with a nice bow, and say that out of this awful infertility comes a great deepening of relationships. Yes, that is true. Infertility taketh away, but infertility also provides a context for giving and receiving. One that blows my mind these days. It doesn't take the pain away, but the ways in which my friends have rallied around me and supported me certainly makes me believe in how far people can reach out for others. For me.

Receiving is never easy for me (thanks for noting that in your last comment, Roccie, and for supporting my "unloading"). I carry on with my antiquated ideas of unworthiness, remnants of early messages I got growing up. In psychotherapy, we talk about corrective experiences, where some interpersonal processes that occur in psychotherapy produce a significant change for a client because the therapist is responding in a way that is different from the client's expectations, based on his or her established interpersonal patterns. My friends are forcing me to revise my antiquated beliefs and expectations. They've been doing this for a years now, and this episode is the latest version. Perhaps I am being compelled into feeling worthy. Could the universe have this as a plan? Is it time to abdicate and consider myself loved? Worthy?

I leave you with a little picture of my girl Chicken. I was snapping my fingers to get her to raise her head, which is why this strange arm is poking straight out of her head.  

Chicken and Augusta's arm


  1. Yes, yes! Come forth, worthy 'gusta! You have always been in there, but to read of your realization of just how loved and lovable and WORTH IT you are...well, it's huge. J. sounds like a gem and I'm so glad you and Sattva got to share your news and that J. reacted so perfectly. You are why. Step into that, and own it, and prepare for the responsibility that knowing how important you are entails. Love you, woman. Glad you're getting some extra time with Mr. A and Chicken this week and getting the ball rolling. xoxo

  2. So thrilled that your lunch went so well. I actually teared up at Js response. You are so lucky to have such great friends. Good luck on Wednesday.

  3. I am so very glad to hear the lunch went so remarkably well. What an amazing bunch of friends you have, my dear!

    As always, thank you for your sweet comments on my blog. :)

  4. Awe, it made me so happy to read your friends reaction at the luncheon. You're right infertility can take away, but where it deepens friendships wow that part really blows me away and makes my heart happy. Also I'm thrilled to hear you're starting to recognize that worthiness that all of us know without a doubt!
    Will be thinking of all three of you on Wednesday! Love the picture of chicken by the freaking cute!

  5. I so enjoyed reading your post tonight. You make me laugh. I just love your sense of humor. Poor little baby C that can't enjoy a French Bistro. And then you make me get all teary eyed thinking of the beautiful friends you have and how touched J was to find out that Sattva was the donor.

    Tell Chicken to get ready because Sattva's special egg is on it's way. And soon your purple arm will be holding up your baby's head to snap a picture of him or her.

    Hope all goes well on Wed.

  6. Wow...your friends sound like real jems...good luck on Wednesday!

  7. I am - we are all - so blessed to know you and love you. You are so, so worthy of love and support; it makes me happy to know that you are beginning to see that.

    I will say some extra prayers for you on Wednesday.

  8. What a great, great post that soothes my inner grouch. I am so delighted to read how it all turned out. You have some brilliant friends (always love me some of that Oat). You have to give that well to get that well. I can speak from my point of view that you certainly do more than hold up your end of the bargain in our friendship.

    Worthy seems a bit of an understatement. Enjoy your Chicken time.

  9. I think having therapist-y/ psychologist-y friends helps A LOT. My friends are also very supportive. And I agree, they don't take it away but remind me over and over how normal my feelings are, and how much they are rooting for me. I am glad you get the same.

    Also, glad to hear you are seeing your own worthiness!

  10. I have to say, I would have wept big snotty sobs if this had unfolded in my group of friends. It is such a touching testament to friendship and love and family and other things...and, really and truly, your awesomeness.

    I'm glad this weekend wasn't filled with loathing for Monday. Sounds like progress.

  11. I got teary eyed myself, reading how it all unfolded. There's something beautiful about three friends sitting there in those circumstances, and about feeling this strongly about and towards one another.

    And this ball is rolling! I know there is much to come between here and there, but the stepping stones are being reached, one by one. I'm so glad.

    AND...what a lovely little love is chicken. I bet Chicken thinks of ways to sabotage your departures, on a weekly basis (though, I am glad that you and Mr. August are settling into a good routine with the commute).

  12. Oh what friends you have! And the best part will be if they can help you see the worthiness that's inside you. Your thoughtfulness, your caring and compassion, shine through in all your words...and I've never even freaking met you. It's no surprise that you have a group of friends who can see it too. I think it's time: consider yourself loved.

  13. I am not surprised one bit that someone as wonderful and kind and loving as you would have friends who just as amazing.

    You said in your post that "infertility also provides a context for giving and receiving". My god is that true. There is so much pain and heartbreak, but yet, there is this additional element of digging deep and discovering strengths within ourselves, and strengths within our relationships that we never would have thought to look for. I hate what infertility has taken from me and ML, but I am so grateful for the lessons we have learned as a result.

    much love, Foxy

  14. What a great story! I am so glad that your friend is so receptive of your donor and that she seems so invested in your success! That must be such a comfort. I also love your cat!

  15. I do think obtaining therapist-y/ psychologist-y close friends aids A whole lot. My friends may also be extremely encouraging. And i also agree, they just don't go apart nevertheless advise myself again and again how regular our feelings tend to be, and how considerably they may be rooting to me. We are pleased you get precisely the same.
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