The ambush came, just not as I expected…

Remember that pregnancy ambush I was worried about a few posts back.  It kinda never happened that night, but it is lurking around me waiting to pounce as soon as I am weak.

You are probably asking how it kinda never happened.  It either did or didn’t, kind of like you are or are not pregnant.  Ha, if only life were so simple.  If only…

It kinda never happened only because it was kinda never admitted.  Make sense?  Well, we arrived first and had our drinks ordered.  The couple in pregnancy limbo arrived last so it was incredibly noticeable when she held the menu up to her face and asked the server for something non-alcoholic.  Bah, like I am that stupid.  When the server presented her with options, she asked especially for the decaffeinated ones. Hmmm…. None fit the requirements of her hidden fetus so she settled on water. Tap water because apparently bubbly stuff gives her heartburn.

If drinking just water wasn’t enough of a sign, how about the touch of her leg by her DH while asking how she was holding up.  Mr. Jitter’s and I adore each other entirely, but he has never asked me how I am holding up unless I am doing something that is hard – physically or emotionally or when I was briefly pregnant.   Kinda funny, don’t cha think…

If that is not enough, add to the evidence the following conversation at house.  Me: “Would you like some coffee? It is decaf.”  Her: “What kind of decaf?”  Me: “Do you mean kind of coffee or how decaffeinated? If so, it is chem free decaf.” Her: “Oh, great, I need to avoid the decaf chemicals.”  Me: (in my head) yes, beatch, would that be for your little secret that you have to avoid chemicals…..

It has not yet been confirmed that she is in fact knocked up, but the evidence seems to mounting in favor of that assessment.  I can understand that it may be early and she may not want to share her news yet.  I respect that, but come on, don’t give me so many clues.  Mr. Jitters has the male version of preg-dar and he was even picking up the signs.  At dinner he whispered in my ear, “Well, babe, at least our kid will have playmates. You do know that our kid is in the world right now waiting for us, right?  We will be great parents.”  I didn’t need the reassurance, but it was nice to know this was not just me acting overly infertile.  On the good side, it was our night to talk about our adoption and it was not dwarfed by another stupid pregnancy announcement.

——————————————————————————————— 

On a slightly different stupid pregnancy announcement note…….

I am currently in Madtown for work and I just got pregnancy ambushed by a recruit.  I informed her about our summer internship and she proudly announced that she is having a baby in late June so that would not be an option for her.

Are there no boundaries or limits?  Not everyone cares about your random announcement.

I ignored it and said, “well take the info anyway in-case you change your mind.”

I wanted to add…… 

……or in case life hits you head on and bites you in the ass and everything that came to you easily that you feel entitled to is suddenly taken away from you.  Just, saying, you know, I know a few “folks” who that has happened to.

 

What the _?

Fill in the blank with what ever adjective you desire after reading this. I chose the f word.

I got an e-mail from the acupuncturist I used to see for fertility. She specializes in women’s health and supposedly has a strong rate of getting women knocked up. I did enjoy her services, although they did not help anything, they were relaxing. I am by no means saying acupuncture does not work. My belief is on the contrary, but it did not help my pregnancy related issues and that just sucks. It was expensive and time consuming and now stressful.

The acupuncturist I saw acted very compassionate to the emotional stress of infertility and informed me that she would like to focus on this area and combine her acupuncture with yoga to help infertile women with a mind body approach. Good idea, well, if once women get pg they magically disappear and are not spoken of ever again. When will people get it that these areas cannot overlap if the application is truly going to be therapeutically beneficial??? There is no benefit of my acupuncture appointment if I leave the room and am bombarded by the herd of pregnant women attending prenatal yoga and having to hear them complaining about having to run to the bathroom often during class (my acupuncturist in in a yoga studio). This happened when I had a Saturday morning acupuncture appointment and I soon avoided this time slot for the very reason of wasting the $75 the session cost me. When I provided feedback to my acupuncturist about this I sensed she didn’t get it.

Now I know she didn’t get it. Not too long ago she send an e-mail to her client base, mostly infertiles, letting them know of her new location/services. Click it and find out why I am so pissed off that I have not found a productive way to respond. I could inform her of her poor business decision, give her the harsh reality, or just ask to be taken off the list. The last option seems too simple becasue I do feel the need to be justified as legitimately annoyed by her actions. I guess that fact that I will no longer recommend her, which I had done quite a bit, is all the action I will probably take.

She doesn’t get. She never will. She will probably throw some mind-body-shit at me about why I can not see the value of this. I will not return to her services….EVER.

 

Must. Post. Something.

Because of NaBloPoMo, this blog has become my ugly step child. This is sad because here I can be my usual crass-ass self and not worry about my mother reading.  I guess I am just so busy that I have less time for crass-assness.  Ah, that is definitely not true, I am just suppressing it.

I need to start letting it out in little bursts.  Like this….

I love beets.  But someone really should have told me that they make you pee red.  I knew about the poo discoloration, but not about the pee.

I ate beets like crazy last week and then Friday night as I was preparing for the pregnancy ambush that only kinda happened I saw red.  I have gotten over seeing red that should not be present in THAT area, but this was due north a tad and I had the swirling rose colored evidence to prove it.  Friends were over at our house at the time and even though we know them very well I could not call them in to verify.  Instead I suppressed my fear and sat in the car silently on the way to the restaurant.  Obviously abnormal behavior for me because they all kept asking what was wrong and I finally blew that I needed to go to the hospital because I was bleeding.  Bleeding in my pee.

Mr. Jitter’s eyes grew huge, our male friend stared at the dashboard & our female friend shouted. ” you have been eating the CSA beets, haven’t you?”

Unfortunately for me, a beet terrine was the featured appetizer that evening. I chose the cauliflower puree and justified my choice to the server who had been filled in about my quandary that I needed it, ” to balance out the color a bit….”

Since I have stepped way over the line, I will add that the following foods cause odors or discoloration in that area  – please let me know if I am missing anything so I can prevent being surprised again.

1. asparagus.  Even the writers for Austin Power’s know about this
2. coffee.  Stinky coffee pee
3. onions. Mostly pee, but after french onion soup both output valves are affected
4. captain crunch.  I think it is the food coloring, according to a site I luckily found explaining green poo.

There are some things my mother really failed to tell me.  Add this to the list with never sit on the seat in a public toilet, drinking a jar of pickle juice is not a good way to make an impression on a first date, and it is not optional for cars to have their oil changed.

 

What chaps my hide.

There are some wonderful things about being a woman.  Don’t expect to find much mention of those things here tonight.

It bothers me that in this day and age, I have to be more fearful than ever about things like running by myself after sunset.  With daylight rapidly fading, I am finding time for my workout schedule cinched to right after I get home from work and before I start making dinner.  I am hungry and tired then, but if I chose to eat and sleep I get crabby and fat.  Men do not have to think about this.

(luckily) Mr. Jitter’s knows me well enough to volunteer to run with me after dark.  Tonight was one of the first really cold days, so I dressed warm and looked like a child still dressed as bum from Halloween next to Mr. Jitter’s in his fancy windproof running clothes. After he stopped laughing at me, he found some items from his collection that I could wear.  YEAH, RIGHT.  He has 2.3% body fat.  I have 16% body fat.  Enough said.  Out of fear of freezing I obliged and wore a tight fitting shirt obviously not made for any woman with curves since it kept maneuvering itself up my midsection with the speed of a child riding the big slide at the state fair. Nothing like making a crabby girl feel better.  Don’t even get me started on the vent about the marathon finisher jerseys we paid for received that were only available in men’s sizes. – tight on the hips and wide in the belly.

Back to point one of my rant.  As we were lapping the lake, I heard myself say: “This is my least favorite part since it is below a bank and I hate being here after dark, but someone would be much less likely to attack us since there are two of us and you are a man.”

So, there is it, a pair of balls gets you built in security and mainstream clothes that you do not have to pay extra for to fit your biological shape.

 

Happy Hallow-weird.

Since I have signed up for NaBloPoMo for my other site (the Ethiopian Adoption site), I am avoiding all things cerebral today. On that note, anyone want to give me a primer on how that works?? Do I have to post on Ning or can I do it on my site? Anyway to register more than one blog with the same account? I am useless, help! I need to motivated to actually get my posting going on that site.

Happy Halloween, from my dejected poodle. He is not too fond be being Princess Leia, not because of the gender confusion we are placing on him, but he hates those faux arms and the headpiece.

Those eyes are plotting against me.

 

Preparation for pregnancy ambush.

On November 2nd we will be meeting with some friends for dinner to celebrate a successful thesis defense of one of the group members and the conquering of malaria for another. I am looking forward to the dinner venue and the drinks/dessert at our house following. The thing I am not looking forward to is the pregnancy announcement by one of the couples in the group.

It is even harder to take since I am not really friends with them, but they are good friends of our friends. Basically, I know very little about them other than they have a kidney shaped garden and he is placing his seed inside her. The latter has nothing to do with the former, but strangely the two conversations I have had with this couple both involve fertilization of some sort. Now, I am not even certain that they are pg, but the conversation was this past spring and, well, most people do not hang out on this side of this statistics so I am shamefully assuming they are fertile. I am usually dead on with my preg-dar, it must compensate for my faulty gay-dar. Perhaps it was an evolution of my very own survival instinct, because if I was not prepared for some of the announcements I have endured I may have perished immediately.

How do I prepare myself for the announcement I know is coming as soon as the wine list starts to circulate? I will try not to cringe as the she in the couple tells the server she needs something non-alcoholic because she is pregnant. Does the server really care? Honestly, just order your ginger ale and drink it in silence as I shoot you scornful glances through my beer. Note to self: only order dark ale on Friday night.

Since we are adopting, many people seem to think my feelings toward fertiles are magically going to perish. These feelings took a solid 4 years to develop and not going to dissipate overnight. Part of my pain will reside with me forever. It is not the type of thing I will tattoo to my upper arm or speak of when asked about regret. In fact I don’t regret our path. I don’t regret that it didn’t work or that we didn’t try just one more time. My life philosophy doesn’t leave room for regret. I can be sad, but it should not be confused with regret. Although, we are rapidly pursuing adoption and are very excited about it, I cannot just rationalize away my feelings. As I have written before, adoption and infertility are two distinct paths. I can possess extreme joy and sadness at the same time. Yes, it is possible. No, it is not unhealthy. Denying my emotions and stuffing them away would be unhealthy.

So until the pain of still being infertile even though I am adopting remains, I will regress to the place I was when we were unsuccessfully trying but not outwardly infertile. It feels funny to have come this far and still be back where we were 3 years ago.  People were finally beginning to understand that comments about our fertility may be frustrating to us, I fear that asking them to understand the complexity of my current state of mind will leave me friendless.

 

The return of superstition

I frequently get e-mails like the one below, but I rarely respond.  I hardly see myself as a superstitious person, although I feel the need to reassure myself when a black cat does run across the road in front of my car.  Perhaps I am just denying my tendencies, who knows.  Someday I will post my about internal fate debate and you will see that I rationally deny these possibilities in thought, yet I humor them in behavior.  I am not certain why, but I guess in my case I am so sick of the negative that I want to foster the positive.  If avoiding black cats allows me to think evil will avoid me, I will enjoy that belief for what it is worth.

Since our adoption home study was just approved and this e-mail was awaiting me in my e-mail account from someone I have not heard from in years, I am taking it as a must to forward it in my own personal way through posting.   Read on in curiosity or disgust, but please enlighten me with your handling of such e-mails/forwards or superstitious behavior in general. I am not looking for advice, but information.  Perhaps through that information I will see that I am not really as crazy as I think because just now I have a good feeling about “things” after I just sneezed three times in a row.

Read Alone….. Especially the Poem
> I believe whatever is in store for us will be for
> us.
>
> The poem is very true, unfortunately.
>
> Make sure you read the poem!
>
> CASE 1: Kelly Sedey had one wish, for her boyfriend
> of three years, David Marsden , to propose to her.
> Then one day when she was out
>
> to lunch David proposed! She accepted, but then had
> to leave because she had a meeting in 20 min. When
> she got to her office, ! ! she noticed on her
> computer she had some e-mail’s. She checked it, the
> usual stuff
>
> from her friends, but then she saw one that she had
> never gotten before.
>
> It was this poem. She simply deleted it without even
> reading all of it.
>
> BIG MISTAKE! Later that evening, she received a
> phone call from the
>
> police It was about DAVID ! He had been in an
> accident
>
> with an 18 wheeler. He didn’t survive!
>
> CASE 2: Take Katie Robinson She received this poem
> and being the believer that she was she sent it to a
> few of her friends but
>
> didn’t have enough e-mail addresses to send out the
> full 5 that you must. Three days later, Katie went
> to a masquerade ball.
>
> Later that night when she left to get to her car,
> she was killed in that spot by a
>
> hit-and-run drunk driver.
>
> CASE 3: Richard S. Willis sent this poem out within
> 45 minutes of reading it. Not even 4 hours later
> walking along the street to his new job interview
> with a really big company, ! when he ran into
> Cynthia Bell , his secret love for 5 years. Cynthia
> came up to him
>
> and told him of her passionate crush on him that she
> had had for 2 years. Three days later, he proposed
> to her and they got married. Cynthia and Richard are
> still married with three children, happy as ever!
>
> This is the poem:
>
> Around the corner I have a friend,
>
> In this great city that has no end,
>
> Yet the days go by and weeks rush on,
>
> And before I know it, a year is gone.
>
> And I never see my old friends face,
>
> For life is a swift and terrible race,
>
> He knows I like him just as well,
>
> As in the days when I rang his bell.
>
> And he rang mine but we were younger then,
>
> And now we are busy, tired men.
>
> Tired of playing a foolish game,
>
> Tired of trying to make a name.
>
> “Tomorrow” I say! “I will call on Jim
>
> Just to show that I’m thinking of him.”
>
> But tomorrow comes and tomorrow goes,
>
> And distance between us grows and grows.
>
> Around the corner, yet miles away,
>
> “Here’s a telegram sir,” ” Jim died today.”
>
> And that’s what we get and deserve in the end.
>
> Around the corner, a vanished friend.
>
> Remember to always say what you mean.
>
> If you love someone, tell them.
>
> Don’t be afraid to express yourself.
>
> Reach out and tell someone what they mean to you.
>
> Because when you decide that it is the right time it
> might
>
> be too late.
>
> Seize the day. Never have regrets
>
> And most importantly, stay close to your friends and
> family, for they have helped make you the person
> that you are today.
>
> You must send this on in 3 hours after reading the
> letter to 10 other people. If you do this, you will
> receive unbelievably good luck. *NOTE* the more
> people that you send this to, the better luck you
> will have. SMILE, even through your tears!!!!!

 

The little things.

I am sitting in a hotel room in Milwaukee trying to draft a post for our adoption blog but I cannot seem to draw any connections between written language and emotion.  I have been in a weird place lately and instead of writing for therapy I spend my days in paralysis.  It is a strange and unexplainable place, hence my lack of discussion about it.  Limbo seems inadequate yet appropriate.  See my problem?

To distract myself from my writing or better put as lack there of, I decided to read the book I brought along, the invigorating Communist Manifesto.  This great distraction strongly indicates the writing predicament I am feeling since I voluntarily chose Marxist philopshy over addressing emotion.  I lost interest when I started thinking what Marx would blog about?  When I accidently dropped the book in transition from the chair to couch, a piece of paper floated to the coffee table.  It was clearly old and discolored and appeared to lack any writing until I turned it over and noticed that Mr. Jitters purchaced this book on October 23, 1994.  I hold in my hands a dated reciept that corresponds directly with the date he must have printed inside the cover immediately after purchase.  He is funny that way, always dating things and saving reciepts.  All our family banking can be backdated in an excel file for years with corresponding reciepts. I tend to lack any sense of organization, but he loves me regardless.  What is it that attracts you to your spouse, partner, significant other, or friend? Do you love the things you lack?  The things you desire? Or the things that drive you absolutely mad at the same time?

 

1 + 1 = 3

Disclaimer: this has a point and is not just dog talk.

We are dog sitting a co-workers pug/rat terrier mix. She is a pampered little dog, but so is our Matisse. The difference is that a small papered dog moves much faster than a 75 pound pampered dog. Two seems pretty easy to handle.

Until, I got a frantic call last night from Mr. Jitter’s that our good friend is in the ER at the hospital where I work with Malaria. (She just got back from Haiti) I sat with her until she got moved up to the ICU – she is sick, really sick. I hate seeing people I care about like that. After she moved upstairs where she will reside for at least 3 days, I went to meet her husband at home who was at that time returning from his grad school exam. He didn’t know what was going on (other than that she was really sick when he left that morning) and I felt for him. Since he will now have more on his hands, I decided to take his standard poodle for a while. His was relieved and now the dogs outnumber the humans at our household.

Two was manageable, but three is a lot. Again, I ask myself, how does Sami do it? She has more dogs than I currently am caring for & she has a newborn. Yikes.

The long awaited point and drawn out connection: How do people have more children than adults or hands for that matter? I cannot handle our current dog to human ratio, so how could I ever manage children? Initially we wanted 2 children. We learned the bastard lesson of life through infertility. That lesson being that you do not have ultimate control over the things you desire to control most. That being said, we came to a conclusion that we would take the children that came our way, whether it be through adoption (yes, you can get multiples….) or some biological fluke. Mr. Jitters and I joked about how much really will change in our lives when we have achieved our numerical family member goals last night before bed as we were fighting for space on our queen mattress between two standard poodles and listening to the faint whimpers of a kenneled pug/terrier who is now sitting on my lap hindering my typing while my boy rests his head on my feet and his poodle friend is squeaking a stuffed carrot.

Don’t worry, this will not turn into a dog blog, nor a mommy blog for that matter, but I needed this experience to remind me that we are really not prepared to best parent a sibling set of different ages. I cannot explain how I came to this conclusion with a dog comparison to our social worker, or anyone for that matter, but I am relieved that Mr. Jitters and I agree that we will be at our best as parents when we can still have a little of ourselves as individuals and as a couple.

I feel a bit selfish & inadequate admitting that. Basically, I am limiting the number of children I want so I can maintain a lifestyle I enjoy. Two means no minivan, vacations are easier and more affordable, zero populations growth, one parent can attend to one child at time. Please tell me your rational for number of children desired or achieved? Has it changed with your experiences? I don’t think I will change my mind, but I am curious how others come to conclusions about similar issues.

 

Please help me pick up my jaw.

I know it is Saturday and nobody reads posts over the weekend, but I did not have time to post this on Friday and you all have to hear read it. If you really want to hear it, I can transpose my voice like a monkey or transformer or many other things – sorry, I have found some funny sites and I need an excuse to send a Monkey Mail to someone who is not sick of them yet. Warning: it is addicting….

So as I was flying around on Friday morning trying to get some work prepared for a presentation I was due for in less than an hour someone at work pulled me aside and said “When you bring your baby home from Ethiopia, you are going to give them a good name…right? Not one of these hard to spell and pronounce foreign names?”

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I have never been a good come back girl. I could compare myself to George and the Jerk Store comment in well timed snarky response to stupid comments. I can think of stuff after the fact, but never on the spot. That is why I had many comments mastered for infertility and could snap off some good ones, for example (yes I did use these – seriously).
1. Oh, you need to lie still and prop with a pillow after, (or other stupid assvice for “something” we all know how to do) …..Oh, I did handstands for a while but after my wrist surgery they got kind of dangerous and I was afraid that I would hurt myself and poor Mr. Jitter’s would be left trying to defend why I broke my neck during…

2. Oh, you are so young, it will happen you just need to wait. …….Well, actually, I age in dog years and since we have been trying for 4 years your time so I have been technically trying for 28 years and that is a heck of a long time, longer than any of your friends who just waited, right?

3. Have you tried prayer. I will be sure to pray for you. ……..Thanks, but why ask God, he couldn’t even get Mary pregnant and had to use immaculate conception.

I was really getting good with my delivery of this wit and then we switched to adoption. Now I need to come up with another stupid list of stupid things stupid people stupidly say so I can respond to them and strut away to give myself a high five for being so awesome.

So, here are some responses I am working on, but they all lack the sharp, sarcastic wit of above and most are really just mean & stupid. Please help me develop a response. I am begging for some snark.

To the question: “When you bring your baby home from Ethiopia, you are going to give them a good name…right? Not one of these hard to spell and pronounce foreign names?”

My proposed responses…..

1. Well, your name is …….. I find that kind of boring and hard to pronounce so it just depends on your perspective.

2. Actually, my husband and I are planning on changing our names also to better fit with our child’s Ethiopian name. The problem is that I cannot decide if I want to be Ang.eli.na Jo.lie or Ma.donna. He is obviously Br.ad Pitt, but I kind of prefer Ma.donna. See our problem?

3. The jerk store called. They are out of you.

Help, please help.

————————————————————

Note: to figure out how we do feel about name changing in adoption, please check our adoption site….. (this should motivate me to actually get the post proof read….)

 

How to make a grown man cry.

Today I ran my first marathon. It was one of my goals by the time I turn 30. The other two were to complete my master’s and have a baby. I tried so hard on one that I totally missed the other. Oh well, life is a crap chute and sometimes you are standing in the wrong place. I am content with 1 for 3.

I trained for a 4:15 finish. I finished in 4:45. Off by 30 minutes, but it was 82 degrees with 70 percent humidity. I am happy. I enjoyed every moment. It is truly a high. One of the best moments was about 5 miles in when I see Mr. Jitter’s standing next to a very familiar face not ever see by me without a Bowtie and a smile. Dr. Bowtie still had a smile, from ear to ear, but ditched the Bowtie for a Sunday wear t-shirt. I jokingly told him to look for me at Twin Cities at our exit appointment, knowing he lived relatively close to the marathon route. He did look for me and he made my day.

This man is amazing. As soon as I spotted him, I ran into his arms (he can now add sweat to the list of other body fluids of mine that he has handled) and yelled that I loved him. I meant it. I adore him. He could retire. He could make more money. He easily could have looked at our test results and turned us away. But, he didn’t. Not only is he an amazing and award winning fertility specialist, but he is human.

Mr. Jitters waited until the end of the race to tell me that as I ran away he wiped tears from his eyes. I know he wanted so badly to help us get pregnant and he feels our frustrated as much as us. His wife was with him and I know I told her thank you for sharing him with us all – he is amazing. I want her to know how much I do really appreciate it. He works almost 7 days a week – long hours – and he took part of his day off to support a patient in another less traditional way.

After 4 years of trying to get pregnant, I didn’t reach my goal, but I didn’t stand still either. Believe me, Dr. Bowtie will be getting an invite to our Champagne Toast when we return from Ethiopia with our baby. Not only was he part of our process, he is family now.

 

Writer’s Block.

I want to scream.  I am in the process of composing my adoption self-study and I caught a pretty bad case of writer’s block.  It is nothing you all can help with since it involves my life and I should be able to answer questions about my life, yet I am at a loss for words.  I guess I will be pulling an all nighter since Mr. Jitter’s and I made an agreement that this paperwork will be dropped off at our agency tomorrow morning.

Since I am so spent and I can hardly compose this post, I need to switch directions.

About a pressing fashion debate that is unfolding at our house……

Now that it is fall, I want to break out my jean jacket.  It is cropped and shows off my shrinking marathon training (5 days away is the big run) bottom.  I bought the acid black denim so I could wear it with many things from work to weekend.  The one thing I refuse to wear it with is denim.

Now, Mr. Jitter’s, who is usually a fashionable man in his pocket squares, layers, & event the occasional ascot, insists that I can mix the denims.

I disagree.  Strongly disagree.  Very, very strongly disagree. In fact, I have a one item per outfit denim limit.  With the exception of a denim jacket, the denim item must be on my lower quadrant.  In other words, no denim button up shirts, no denim vests, and absolutely no denim scrunchies.

So, please, tell me, would you mix or double up on the denims???

 

Check out my new header..

It is artistic talent from the canvas of DD. That is her photo of me & my poodle at my house when she was visiting. Can you recognize me from my thighs? I am also wearing one of those maternity style shirts that I swore I would never but & even have a post drafted about, but since she caught it on film I will admit I do love them.

Quite cool, huh!

Who would have know that I would find one of my best friends on the internet. Here’s something even better…… she is even cooler IRL.

I just got back from recruiting in IA and I have a whopper post drafted so check back soon. The internet was “out” so I could not post it, but I did not want to loose the moment so I drafted it in word.

I am grateful to be home and back in 2007.

 

Celebrate the “little” things in life.

Just got a call from Mr. Jitter’s. 

FIL had his 18 month cancer scan today and it came back clear. 

I am so happy I am shaking.

Please join me in a celebratory hoot n’ holla.

 

Thanks, Prometheus.

There are few things in life that evoke such varying emotions as fire.

As I sat in my backyard and stared into the urban fire blazing in our brick fire pit I felt a soothing desire. While my mind was reminiscing of cooking hot dogs on a camping trip and falling asleep near a crackling warmth on Christmas Eve, I realized how far removed infertility took me from enjoying life. I was finally able to decompress as I burned off the pain of dealing with infertility and stoked a new adoption dream with each added log and and kindling. I halfheartedly joked to Mr. Jitter’s, as he grabbed a paper grocery bag to help the fire burn quicker, that we could just burn the contents of our IVF file. Perhaps we will tomorrow night.

I am not certain why I am drawn to fire. Perhaps it’s allure comes from historical to present reference; fire was a cultivator of society and in some form or another is still a common trait of mankind today. When we are in control, fire cooks our food and keeps us warm, yet when fire is in control we risk losing everything. We are dependent on fire, or the concept of combustion, to survive, but this very thing that sustains us can so quickly take us, all our humanly possessions, and often our spirit.

While dealing with infertility I precariously played with fire and towards the end I found my ability to maintain control slipping away. Perhaps it is the control I currently posses over my personal fire that fosters my ability see the destruction of fire as a chance for something new.

New opportunity. New path. New experiences. New life. New family. New relationship. New understanding. New fears.

Most importantly, a newly found happiness.