Month: January 2014

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and quick update on my friend

Thanks for the really amazing comments. I just wanted to make a note here that my friend with the stitches is doing well. She has sent me photos every day. I think it is the exact right balance of her knowing I love her, giving her a project, and me not getting overly involved. I know I can’t fix this situation… But I also don’t think the professionals can do much either. She needs help, but she also needs an everyday life. That said, there is a chance of a cleaning job, which might be a really good fit for her, and she is reaching out to lots of people, and to good people, and that gives me so much hope. If she truly was in the depths, I doubt she’d be doing so well at reaching out.

And while updating… my friend and former teaching colleague who lost her girls. She had her first dream where her daughter appeared. It has brought her so much comfort. Hardly a replacement for the real thing, but I know personally how much comfort such dreams can bring.

I remember vividly when my late ex-boyfriend came to me in a dream after he died. I was living in Chicago, but dreamed that I was walking the country road from town to the house I grew up. We used to drive this road together all the time in high school. I’ve never walked it though. But there I was walking in some dodgy Oregon weather… and he appeared and gave me a big hug. Looked me in the eye and said, you’ll be alright. And Clare… I am alright.

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rainy, cozy day

The skys are dark and gloomy. Sirens can be heard in the distance. The overwhelming sound is actually the rain. Pouring pouring pouring rain.

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And I am so so happy. A very quiet, calm, cozy happy.

I am curled up in bed alternating between some academic work and watching TV.

I woke up with this wonderful calm. This is an entire day where I can just sit in hopeful possibility. Scientifically I know that if the blob-on-board hasn’t implanted yet, I am as not pregnant today as I will be tomorrow. I also know that a positive test tomorrow is no guarantees of any thing long term.

But today.. oh today.. there is just possibility. And a list of people to call tomorrow to celebrate with or drink with. 🙂

It is so warm and comforting and I love that I get to sit on my unemployed a** and just reveal in this moment.

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2 days to go

Today the internet was down, which is a problem given how much I rely on it for distraction at the moment. I have a paper due Friday. I have TV to watch! I need to build a website for my new business.

I called my man in frustration… and he laughed and said, silly, there is a certain French person who also is at home today. Ah that’s true!!! And so off I went to my friend F’s house.

We cranked the tunes. She took apart her laptop and I coded up a simple Python program that my husband can use to get the results. It is the digital version of putting two envelopes on his desk and then me texting him Friday to tell him which to open. But instead, he’ll type results() into his command line, be prompted for a code, and then one of two very simple text figures will appear.

If he did this to me, I’d kill him. But I *think* he’ll really like it and be proud of me for managing more code than I normally can.

In other news, I played with a baby, I walked in the rain, I taught English to scientists and to 6 year olds, and I breathed a lot (particularly when the internet died).

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A friend pinged me to ask if I had cheated and started hitting the home preg tests. Its funny, I honestly haven’t been tempted. Partially because they are expensive here and annoying to get your hands on here in Italy…. but mostly because I am loving this living with hope.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ll be pissed if I can’t get the blood work done on Friday, but in general I am feeling super calm and at peace. Everything feels to be unfolding just as it should be. At least here in my quiet little place.

Is it normal to get calmer and calmer as the BETA approaches? This isn’t what i remember from last time!

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3 more days

I realize my blog has turned into a cycle journal. Nothing is happening, but I feel like writing to capture this period. It is strange, I feel so calm. My mom is having a recurring dream of me holding a baby with dark, curly hair. My body feels so protective of the blob (assumed to be) on board.My husband is in complete focus mood on anything but Friday. I think he is scared. Me, well I am in a zone where nothing can phase me.

Literally nothing.

For example, yesterday a dear family friend who was adopted when she was 6, messaged me. I try to be a big sister to her. She’s been through a lot .6 years in a Russian Orphanage. Foster care since she was 16. Rehab. She was in jail for a bit, and strangely thrived there (I suspect because of the structure). Attempted assault (towards her). Very successful for assault of police cars (her towards them). And yet, really she is like a 10 year old kid at heart still (one with friends who suggest all manner of bad ideas), but she is not a very good problem solving skills. But truth be told, when I am home, I take her to weddings, camping trips, out for ice cream… I have never had a moment of trouble with her. I lay down incredibly clear guidelines for her and make it really clear that I love her. But I have no idea, even in a perfect world with infinite resources, how she is going to find a way to support herself, live without supervision, and conquer the many demons she picked up along the way.

Her text was simple. It was a photo showing 7 stitches. I didn’t get the whole story… I don’t know if she was cutting again or this was actually at attempt on her life. She has scores of mental health people helping, so I don’t have to start tracking down her caregiver, her estranged American mother, etc. I just have to be there for her.

And as worried as I am, it somehow hasn’t phased my calm countdown to Friday.

She made a pact with me that she would text me every day for awhile, including a photo from something about her day that she was proud of, happy about, or else something that just simply didn’t suck completely. I don’t care if she sends me photos of her shoes every day. I just want a way to know she is okay-ish that doesn’t tax her language skills.

Each day I send her a photo too.

It’s all i could think of to help her feel supported and connected, when I am living so so far away.

How do you give support to people who are really struggling? Why do I know so many adults in such dire straits? And man, what is society going to do to help them have a chance at helping themselves….

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project – share the results

More than halfway! Friday is the Beta day…

I am succeeding in getting out of the house every day, watching TV shows I love everyday (here’s to discovering a show you like 4 seasons into its exsistence!), and meeting up with friends every night.

I’ve booked a girls weekend for Saturday in a Lucca – a town only 2 hours away that I’ve been dying to see for years.

And now, to try to keep me distracted, I’ve finally figured out how to share the good or sad news on Friday with my husband. He’ll be at work, so I don’t want to just call him. Nor do I want to do something the way I’d want to find out the news. Nor can we find out together, because he hardly is going to leave work to go sit around some Italian blood lab to wait for the results.

I also wanted to find a way that fits his style.. i.e., not do what I’d want him to do for me, but what I think he might actually get a kick out of.

So, I am doing something I struggle with — I am writing a set of code in Python that he can enter in a code (that I’ll text him) and then it will jump him through a bunch of random hoops, and then output the result. But he’s spent so much time trying to get my coding skills up to scratch.. I think he’ll be touched to get a working, albeit incredibly simple, piece of code.

And it certainly will kill a few more hours this week!

How did you share a Beta results with your other half? How would you want to be told?

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markers

So today marks 16 years since a very good friend died in a car accident. He was one week shy of his 19th birthday. We were freshmen in college. I was so so far away, locked up in the library studying when it happened.

I rushed back to my small town and did everything I could to help the family. I still remember the songs that were playing when I first walked back into their house after the accident. I remember what I wore to the funeral. I remember helping to plan it.

Today I went to Milan, waited outside while a friend saw an art show (tickets were sold out), wandered around, and came right back. She thought I was crazy to pay all that money and travel 4 hours round trip to basically do nothing there. I thought it was a brilliant way to keep moving today. I explianed what today means to me… and teared up. She asked, after prefacing it with an acknolwedgment there is no nice way to ask, "why is this so raw after all these year?"

Its not raw like it was… but it still touches my heart. Pierces it. Part of it it is my lose, but much of it is knowing how much his parents still ache.

I have stayed in touch with the family all these years. Sometimes out of duty and sometimes out of mutual support, but whenever I visited home, I’d stop by their house. It was hard. Overtime the main thing we had in common is we knew how hard this day in January is for us. I have known them so many more years than I knew him.

And then one day, they moved one too many times and we completely lost touch.

Until recently… thanks to facebook.

So this week I sent them a short private message. A simple message to let them know that I still know. I still remember. I am holding them in my thoughts.

A little back and forth conversation started and then I suddenly felt brave enough to ask something I have wanted to ask for years and years.

I asked if they still have a photo I took of him. It was prom night. We had a low key party at my house and I loaded up a roll of black and white photos. I snapped off the entire roll and loved the shot I got of him. I gave the print to his parents when they were preparing photos for the funeral. Now I have no photos of him and have always longed to see that specific photo again.

So I asked that if they ever came across it… could I get a copy emailed to me.

And of course they said yes.

And then they wrote back again.

"Clare, actually next time you are home… go visit his marker… I think the photo you are thinking of… I think that is the one we used for his grave."

And suddenly my heart broke right open again… not for long, but all the way deep again.

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bidding my time

So nearly half of the wait done.

  • Received and opened my Christmas package from home
  • Paid all the credit cards used last Friday
  • Played some guitar
  • Taught lots of English lessons
  • Watched so so so much TV

The first week flew by… Being in Barcelona helped a lot!

Then I had a couple days of doing tons of things on a research collaboration I am starting and oh.. yeah.. I registered a private practice company! Whatever happens, in 3-4 months I am going to be working for myself.

But in the mean time I wait… some moments go by quickly, mostly them go by slowly.

This week also marks the 16th anniversary of a dear high school friend’s death. Actually, he was my super amazing boyfriend my senior year, but we had gone our separate ways when we started college.

Normally this is such a hard week for me. It takes me right back to University days. To how lonely and overwhelmed I was. How hard my first taste of real grief was. How truly awful some people’s responses were.. but mostly how painful it was to have no response or be told that I couldn’t miss class for the funeral, that I was dragging things out too much, or that he was only a friend.

This year it is different. I have the cycle buoying me up. I also will find out the results just around the date of my late friend’s birthday. Another day that has always weighed heavily on me. This year it will either be a moment of joy, or another sadness to piggyback on an already sad-ish, wistful day.

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Breathing easier

Today was my last day in Barcelona.

I forced myself to go on a walking tour, mostly so I’d actually just get moving and out of bed. The big long day ahead of me without my friend around just seemed very .. well hard to fill.  Even in a great city that I love.

The tour was lovely.. but I was distracted from the very first moment. I loved the tour guides name.  It is a traditional Catalan name that is just gorgeous.    Any child from this is very unlikely to ever know anything about the egg donor, but I am now adding Catalan names to my secret baby name list.  Particularly this name. I even recorded the tour guide saying her name for me.

The day quickly filled up.  Lunch with a sweet young couple from Switzerland and Hong Kong.  Relaxing for siesta hour at home.  Sunset exploration of the old city.

And then I began to panic.  I just was flooded with fretful thoughts about this cycle not working. Just this sense of knowing that something had happened.

So I started to walk and walk and walk. I walked all the way to the top of the nearest hill and starting photographing everything.  I got some great shots.  And slowly slowly slowly, my nerves calmed down.

I was content as I tracked down my friend’s favorite cookies from Argentina (randomly in a mall in an old bull fighting ring). I wandered back into town to have hot chocolate and churros.  I found my way to some great Indonesian food.

And then as I was walking home, I wrapped up several texting conversations and decided to quickly scan through my email. There was a note from the clinic.

I logged on to their secure server area — and there it was — all 4 embryos made it — We have 4 embryos on ice.   Tears of joy and gratitude streamed down my face. I texted all of my closest people supporting me during this cycle (including my friend who donated the first time).   The sense of relief is overwhelming.  Just to know that we have 4 chances to fall back on.  Yes, that doesn’t guarantee anything… but for now, it just appeases my love of contingency plans.  Four is a great number of contingency options.

And then, my husband texted to remind me to be gentle when relaying the news to our friend who donated (Damn — why hadn’t I thought of that!), and I melted.  My guy isn’t always the most socially smooth.. but this was spot on.  Then my friend who had been here mentioned that she “gets the feeling that he’s more into this than he appears… he was practically bouncing at work.”  When I agreed that I think she might be right, she simply said ‘I am. Trust me on this.”  Dang, what a great friend.

So tonight I drift off feeling very happy with my decision to go with this clinic.. to do a single embryo transfer.. and more than anything that my choice of husband and friends (and their choosing me back) were spot on for who I am.

Feeling blessed.

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The doubling begins

So transfer was on Friday, and then Friday evening my best friend flew in from Italy.

**This** is now I think transfers should be organized.

After the transfer ,I had an afternoon to rest in a lovely hostel, took a walk around the port, and then went out to celebrate with my best friend. It was so good to look forward to her arriving. She is so good at helping me acknowledge when big things are a foot in my life.

She also is amazing at helping my time fly. We laughed so hard. We walked and talked. We treated ourselves to great meals. We laughed so much. I don’t think we once went to bed before 2! Time just flew while she was here.

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I could squeeze her arm and say, "S. I am so happy!" and she would simply smile back and say you should be.

Then we started joking about how the blob on board should be doubling cell numbers ever 12 hours (roughly).

I would squeeze her arm again, and tell her how happy and excited I was again. And she’d smile and say "well you have 64 reasons to be by now!"

If I mentioned I was tired, she’d say, "Well 128 extra cells is a lot to carry around Clare"

Its been one of the best travel weekends in my life. I toured Gaudi’s Casa Batillo (a life long dream of mine — and WOW — I was not disappointed). I conquered my fear of heights and took the Port Vell aerial tram. I walked in the rain. I bought great fresh bread from the same lady every day, and now am getting free samples!

But more than anything, I am glad I leaped into this again. I am glad I let my friends in on my secret adventure. I am so lucky to have a friend like this who wanted to be here to share this with me more than anything. It was so important to her. She too might have to go down this route, and she gets it. She really gets what it is like to have to very deliberately choose to *try* to have kids.

And I am celebrating this chance with everything I have. I am laughing and daring to dream. I am singing in the streets. I am treating myself to amazing food. I am rebuilding my dreams with what I got, and that makes me content and proud.

And as S said today, "Yes Clare, this could work. I really really could. And we will celebrate that like crazy. And if it doesn’t, well we’ll deal with that too."

Husbands are great… but my husband is only one person. The circle of friends holding me tight right now amplifies my sense of hope and my courage that should this not work, I will be okay. They will hold me through it all.

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blob on board

Can a transfer day be great?? Why yes it can!!

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Today started with wonderful fresh bread and cheese I ate at the hostel. I had a great playlist while I rode the 34 bus to the clinic. I loved seeing all the cyclists and building facades from the window.

I arrived a few moment early, and just sat on a bench and watched life go by. The sun was amazing. Hardly feels like winter here.

And then I realized — wow there are parents and kids everywhere — seriously, everywhere. Then I realized, wait, I feel happy. All the little looks and smirks and skips and whines – it all just made me smile. Even if this cycle doesn’t work, I find joy again watching people with their kids. Plus – dang, I love that they were all walking their kids to school. Hundreds of families walking to school and then on to work. So much more civilized and my pace than the drop off loops at so many American schools.

The clinic was very organized, which I find calming. At first none of my credit cards worked, which I didn’t find calming. Nor did the part of the phone call to my husband when I asked him to help brainstorm with me about what to do with the Xxxx credit card that wouldn’t take the full payment, and he just kept repeating, well it should work, have you tried using it?

Seriously.. SERIOUSLY! um yes, I tried to use the card in the obvious way first and then a lot of other ways before calling. But pretty good day when that is the only bobble you encounter.

In the end the solution was doing lots and lots of 500 and 1000 euro payments until the very GRAND amount was reach. Must not thinking about that number. My passport now is stuffed with lots of 500 euro credit card receipts.

But then I was shown to my little private room. I had time to listen to music and mediate a bit. It was nice to have a place that was mine for 20 minutes before and after the procedure.

The biologist was adorable. She spoke directly to me in Spanish and then the translator translated. The biologist understood a bit of English and I a bit of Spanish, but it was so calming for me to basically get to hear everything twice. It gave me space. I sort of wish all medical procedures had a translator for this reason! Including when I hear the translator translate the second meaning of what I said, not realizing initially that the phrase had 2 meanings in English.

And then the best news… all 5 embryos made it to today! So I felt comfortable going with single embryo transfer. These calls are so hard to make for me. As I understood it, my pregnancy chances dropped from 60 to 40% but the chances of twins is no longer 25%. I would love to have twins, but I also work with a lot of kids who have significant disabilities related to complications during a twin pregnancy. I also know a lot of people with twins. I could do that.. but I have no illusions that it is easy.

So we have sperm in reserve. We may have embryos on ice. Things are looking good! The sun is shinning and my best friend (conveniently bilingual in English and Spanish) is flying in now so we can have a girls weekend in Barcelona!

Wheee!!!

Thank you thank you thank you anonymous 28 year old woman with A+ blood type.

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Should of, could of, would of

Well we all have many should of, could of, would of’s if we had only know.

  • I would have tossed those damn condoms years earlier if I had known that I was entering menopause.
  • I could have asked firmer questions of the doctors (all 6 of them) about whether I should wait to try to conceive.
  • And most of all, I should have forgiven myself much quicker for many of these faults. I have, but it took years to do so.

And today I have another chance to practicing letting go and forgiving myself.

Background:

The Spain clinic has a policy in which you can either pay 1500 for the donor drugs or bring a complete set of them on the day of the transfer (to be used for a future cycle there, a pay forward system). I researched prices, and this all seemed about the going costs for the drugs. The nominal savings I could find, didn’t seem worth it for the hassle of researching and dealing with flying with the drugs (The American double sense of the word which includes medicine!).

So after the call that Friday is T day, I wandered out for a walk. I saw some awesome boots, and I am not too proud to say I thought, “hmmm, if there is a few Euro savings on the donor drugs, I could totally treat myself to the boots”

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So with that motivation, I entered my fear zone. I became verbally confident in a language I don’t speak well and started a conversation where I hadn’t already looked up all the words! The pharmacists was awesome. She priced the drugs out for me… and then came the bomb. If I had a script from my public system, Italian doctor, the first two drugs on the list would be free to me.

With that 800 Euro carrot, I was on the phone with my doctor after hours, babbling about my situation. He didn’t understand me very well, but I now have been invited to see him at 3:45 “before the other patients arrive and get in line at 4”. That is as close to an appointment as you get here.

So then I ran back to the pharmacy before closing to ask if I needed to order the drugs in advance. I fly Thursday early in the morning, so I really need them by closing time Wednesday.

She called and called around for me. No dice. All shops needs 24 hours notice starting from when the doctor gives me my script.

And so, this is the story where I basically discovered a 800-1000 euro coupon and then proceeded to learn that I can use it in time, but a matter of a day.

Good bye boots!

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Unless I rationalize how much I am ‘saving’ by not doing the cycling in the states…. hmmm, that is a thought 😉 and I was very brave for talking to the pharmacist and doctor!

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And its a go!

Got the call this morning!!!

Eggs are retrieved and the transfer will be Friday. Flight is booked. Accommodation is being sorted. From Genoa to Barcelona via Pisa and Turin.. here we come!!!!

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There have been all sorts of happy-joy-joy messages and phone calls. I am loving having people to share this with. But so far the best was M with her lovely message

"Thinking of you two and the little egg that could (and can and will)."

I am bouncing with excitement. It is so unreal that I am living here, looking out on steel-gray skies and will be in Barcelona in a couple days.

I also am really aware that there is a woman somewhere in Barcelona who is now recovering from doing this thing for me. I know my friend who donated for my first cycle 5 years was really sore on the egg retrieval day. I can’t help but wonder what this unknown woman is feeling today.

I feel a real desire to somehow pay this forward, no matter what happens. I certainly can’t do much to help other conceive, but I have promised myself to pass it forward in whatever way I can. At the moment, I think that will take the form of me making a commitment to actually schedule, go, and give blood on a regular basis. Its a little thing, but little things add up and I certainly wanting to be contributing to that sum!

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One step at a time

Today was the scan to check my lining.

I felt so supported. My dear friend S came over for dinner and asked just the right amount of questions. She walked me to my Italian friend M’s house. M then walked me to her OB’s office.

It is amazingly easy to wait in a tiny room with unmarked doors when you friend can recognize the doctor’s voice through the wall and reassure you that you are in the right place. Hearing said doctor argue loudly into her phone in a language you don’t understand is also downright hilarious when your friend can translate for you (otherwise, I think I would have been terrified).

"Oh.. they are fighting. She is MAD. Mad at her MOM. Normal Clare. Italian mother troubles… no wait. not the mom. She is made at her husband. Oh boy.. very mad.. Aiya, they have a son… uh oh he’s hurt.. oh no the emergency room!!! oh, wait sounds like he is ok.. but the dad did something wrong.. oh my.. no word for that…… "

And then the standard "ciao.. Ciao ciao.. Ciao Ciao Ciao… ciao!"

The door opened. A very pleasant, professional looking, warm, friendly and CALM doctor greeted me. Quick scan. I was so impressed by the entire interaction. How this woman could shift gears so quickly, I don’t know, but I was impressed.

20 euro later (yes, I am not joking!!), I walked out with a print out of the scans, and a hand written report stating that my lining looks great and I responded to the estrogen very well.

And as soon as that door shut, the phone conversation recommenced. Loudly!

My friend and I giggled all the way home.

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Chilling

This cycle is notably different from the last one. My attitude is much more flippant. In my head I have a kiwi accent mumbling, "yeah nah, I can give it a go"

I am different. I know I will be fine if it fails. I always was going to be fine. But I know it now. I have lived it. This Italian adventure has been hard on me in ways I can’t even remember. My accidental PhD in Italy has shown me that I can live, and now thrive, in a world I never would have chose.

The process is different. I change my estrogen patches ever 3 days. Folic acid at night. All the important information is in English, with some hillarious typos that bring some humor to reading over it. The drug pamphlets are in Italian, so I don’t bother reading them (and avoid needless freaking out). And the clinic visits represent vacations to Barcelona, not something stressful to sneak into the day. If it doesn’t work, I still have a (VERY) expensive trip full of memories, good food, and on the first visit great drinks!

The waiting is different. I spent 4 days in Rome visiting Italian friends and one of my dearest mates from rowing days in New Zealand. I have lunch with friends. I provide support to my friends here adjusting to the early days of being a parent. I write and think, walk and explore, and sleep in every single day.

And my stress levels are really different. I am not working. I am doing 5-25,000 steps a day of walking. I have human interactions all day with shop keepers. I never drive and can barely remember those steering wheel clutching moments of fear, stress, or simple worry of being late.

My community is different too. Last time I had amazing support here. THANK YOU. I will treasure that gift from strangers my entire life and it has changed my understanding of how to comment and support far away friends going through crisis now. But this time lots of real life people know. My parents are super excited, lighting candles, and asking me about how I am feeling. My husbands siblings and wives know. We have told many good friends here. Which means I can call someone and share news and the little steps and not worry about not drinking in front of them. I can wonder aloud if something might be a symptom of the estrogen, or just me being crazy. It makes it lighter. It makes it a real exercise in trying to make a dream come true and not some pretend shadow adventure. And, it has allowed people to volunteer useful information like, "oh my mom is a gynecologist here in Italy if you have any questions" and one friend to offer to come to Barcelona for a weekend trip after the transfer so we can just hang out and have some fun.

And with all this.. I can let things go. Like the fact that on my last call with the clinic, the kind lady closed with "okay now, sounds good. We’ll hear from you after your scan on the 13th!"

WTF.. this was the first I had heard the exact date. only two days to organize this.. in Italy.. when I don’t have a set doctor helping me here…

But no worries. I called a friend here. She called her OB. Within 5 minutes and with only 2 days notice in ITALY, we are all set!!! We are off on Monday for my scan together. I will have her baby to entertain me in the waiting room and her bilingual skills if the doctor talks too fast.

I am not alone. And together, we got this.

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long form conversations

So man.. first off, today is way better. Dinner with friends (and those I felt shunned by .. great advice Mali, I doubt it had anything to do with me now), a nice long run, lots of productive thoughts on a journal article I need to get written up.. and basically just a lighter, better, ‘life is good’ kind of day.

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phew.. the downs are much better when quickly followed by ups!

I also just finished reading M’s post over at the Maybe Babies on various challenges that have descended on her like a tidal wave.

Also, each day I read these heartbreaking, touching, and inspiring posts from my friend back home who lost her daughters in a hit-and-run accident (love-drenched-life).

Two extremes for sure, but it got me thinking. In both cases, I had heard what was going on in these people’s lives through direct communication (private messages, skype chats, instant message etc.). I hope I was kind and compassionate and sympathetic.

And then I got to read the long form… the blog post that lets the person have a bit more time and space to share what they want to share. It gives me a bit more time to think. I can hear and listen differently.

Its not the same as getting to hold a cup of tea and just listen… that is what I prefer. But this world of quick messages to feel the waters to see if someone has time to hear your woes and quick responses you hope get to them in time, before they have to return to their desk or get out of their hiding spot, I mean car, well this quick back and forth world, just doesn’t mimic the feeling of listening over a cup of tea.

But reading the blog does. I can read something and realize, wait, I need more time to hear this. And then come back in a few hours and properly read a friend’s words. Really sit with it. I still might not come back with the correct words or might choose to reply with a phone call or something more direct, but I feel much more confident that I actually heard them, the way I used to over cups of tea and late night walks with friends.

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being on the outs

You know that feeling of having all the wind sucked out of your soul…

.. for me it comes when I think I have been doing something well, and then I get blindsided that actually I wasn’t. Particularly when it is a social thing.

I have written here before how I often get nervous and anxious at social events, can’t relax, and then just end up leaving social gatherings because I can’t quite convince myself that I am not annoying people.

Because when I have good friends who will actually draw boundaries around their needs, they sometimes tell me to go away. Okay, not really.. I am glad they let me know what they need, but still today, I feel shunned.

Yesterday one of my closest friends came back from her holiday trip. Her sister is visiting and they invited a group of us over for dinner. Dinner turned into hanging out and doing a puzzle. The rest of the party went out drinking, but I am not drinking at the moment so I was happy to stay in with them. The sister was spending most of her night on the phone texting a few guys she recently met. I never know if that is a sign of ‘pheww, finally some time for me’ or ‘man this blows, I’d rather just be on my phone."

Anyway, early in the evening they invited me come back over the next day to bake cookies. Something that my friend has been lamenting all Christmas season we haven’t done together because our schedules didn’t line up.

So today I texted to see if either of them want to go for a run… a normal response of great idea, but not up for it… I ask about cookies.. and then get one of those weird overly formal messages about ‘if you don’t mind, I think we could us a little time to hang just the two of us’

And of course I do the social appropriate thing of replying with something about it not being a problem, no worries, that I totally understand and thanks for letting me know.

But as soon as I did, I knew my truth was… well a sarcastic great, what did I do wrong. And I felt shocked at just how bad I felt.

Not having a job and spending most of my days alone in my house has made me doubt my social skills so much. I feel it when I interact with people. We are out of sync for the simple fact that when we hang out I am dying to rev up my socialness and they want to chill out and cool off after a day at work. It looks so familiar to when my mom nearly pounced my dad for conversation when he came back from work,and he just wanted to change his clothes and go chill out for a few hours in the back garden. I am actually starting to dread the weekends because as much as I want to hang out with my friends, the weekends seem to go wrong over and over again.

Anyway, I know the reneging of the invitation clearly could have nothing to do with me… people and moods change… and the two of them were lovingly bickering all last night as siblings do, particularly after traveling together, and could very well just need some time the two of them. They are bilingual and maybe just want to not worry about speaking only English around me.

But I was left with this feeling in my stomach of .. I don’t know.. shame? feeling shunned? Worried that I did something wrong last night? It was a night where I felt relaxed and like I was actually being myself without worrying too much about making sure I didn’t rock the boat, and now fret that maybe I did do damage to the social scene.

Regardless of whether it is nothing about me.. I am left with this overpowering and crummy feeling and no idea how to make it go away. Writing this somehow helps, but still as soon as I hit post, I have the entire day ahead of me and just want the day to be over already so this feeling can go away.

How do you navigate being asked to politely stay away?

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Three days in

Every night I have a little ritual now.. If 4 nights counts for such a thing.

I take my folic acid. I enter in my little data sheet (so far, the only thing I notice is that my eyes are so itchy and I’ve given up on my contacts). I curl up with a podcast and fall asleep to words bumbling about.

My husband has texted me a few sweet messages today and I managed to do a good half day of work. The best by far was "I get focused, but you are always on my mind" If you ever date an engineering, interverted, mono-focus kind of person, you’ll know what this means:)

Above all, I just feel really calm. It could be just the relief of finally made a decision and forward movement on the cycle. It might be the relief of having a big project again after months of inventing things I might be able to do the could potentially be useful for me career wise. Or maybe, the estrogen is kicking in. I do feel like I have just a bit more of a reserve somehow … like I can react a bit slower and my brain is following things a bit quicker without feeling the compelled to jump to conclusions just to keep up.

So far the only issues is now I am up to 2 patches that fell off. At 4 euro for a box of 8, I am not terribly worried. I’ll just have to remember to keep checking that I haven’t lost them.

I also have decided, should this not work, I am going to take 10 days or so and go home to spend some time in Oregon. I can celebrate here. But to lick my wounds, I think the Oregon coast might be my place.

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Estrogen, my old friend

Not really… I have been blaming estrogen all my life for things. I really did not like the feeling of being on the pill and have rather enjoyed how I feel in menopause in terms of return of color. By color, I mean when on the pill the world felt so blah, gray, and oh man did it kill my sex drive.

For the past 5 or so years, I have actually enjoyed the lack of periods (unsurprising), the calmness of my moods, and um.. interest in bedroom fun! Perhaps that is just me entering my 30s.

But I also have just felt… well mushy in the brain. Words are hard to find. My memory isn’t as good. I mean I function and managed a PhD in this state, but it was frustrating to be thinking through a fog.

So today when I started my estrogen patches for the cycle, part of me started thinking of this also as a test of what being on estrogen might be like.

.. which lead me to google about when the effects of these three patches might kick in… which lead me down a rabbit hole.

I read Sharon Begley’s post on perimenopause , which made me think about the verbal memory challenges I have and how I now just expect to wake at 3 am every morning and so I keep an ipod of podcasts ready so i can ‘read’ through my ears in the dark while my husband sleeps.

I also read through Cynthia Gorney’s 2010 article in the NY times:

I love her description of

  • the pit ” I wake up some mornings with a great dark weight shoving my shoulders toward the floor and causing me to weep inside my car and basically haul myself around as if it were the world’s biggest effort to stand up straight and carry on a conversation.” – yup I know that one!
  • and mood swings “I’m sorry, but only someone who has never experienced one could describe a day of ‘I would stab everyone I know with a fork if only I could stop weeping long enough to get out of this car” as a ‘mood swing.’ ”
  • and interviewees who describe that on estrogen, they feel like they have less ADD
  • and a women who typically felt unflappable and very even keel, suddenly wasn’t, until she went back on estrogen
  • and her reaction to listening to scientists debate the evidence regarding hormone replace me ” I had one small but persistent estrogen-replacement thought of my own: If I make the wrong decision about this, I am so screwed” – Exactly how I feel!

In short, after reading this I began to wonder if my mental health challenges — mostly anxiety and depression plus worrying if I had some learning disability because I simply can NOT name names of people or new material in textbooks — all through college was perimenopause. If estrogen supplements on top of fluctuating levels can cause crazy feelings, maybe just maybe some of my crazy feelings were from the pill on top of my ovarian decline in college.  But in  my case,  I don’t have a clear baseline to compare to.  I went through puberty straight into erratic cycles and mood swings, followed by a surgical removal of my ovaries (well 98% of them) at the age of 19, a few years on and off the pill through out college… and well, honestly, where in all of that upheaval and hormonal drama was I too get a sense of what my background ‘normal’ experience is.  The hot flashes hit when I got my first professional job in my mid-20s. Now a days, adults with ADD books seem to ring true and my brain is just so fuzzy!!

So after an afternoon of internet reading, instead of worrying that the estrogen might make me go back to the terrifying emotional states I spent much of my birth control years in, I wonder if this time taking hormones might help.

Or then again, maybe we should be talking about progesterone!

“Other hormone levels were unrelated to verbal memory, executive function or overall cognition, or to mood, the researchers found, with one exception: Higher progesterone levels in younger postmenopausal women were positively associated with better memory and global cognition.”

from article  summarizing  V. W. Henderson, J. A. St. John, H. N. Hodis, C. A. McCleary, F. Z. Stanczyk, R. Karim, D. Shoupe, N. Kono, L. Dustin, H. Allayee, W. J. Mack. Cognition, mood, and physiological concentrations of sex hormones in the early and late postmenopause. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 2013; DOI: 10.1073/pnas.1312353110

At any rate, it will be a fun little experiment to keep track of while i wait to go back to Spain! I have my data sheets ready to go and one of my sort-of-objective husband, and whatever happens, I’ll be ready to finally make a call on HRT later this year.

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And so it begins

Tonight we rang in the new years in a small fishing village a bus ride away from our Italian city. The city has long ago sprawled out to, around, and past this little beach community.

It is the type of place where the waves can crash dramatically during storms. Neighbors will come up at 3 am and move all the boats by hand out of harms way for 4 hours in the middle of the night … even on Christmas Eve.

Tonight it was calm. The water is crystal clear. Christmas lights are still hanging and a bonfire is burning on the beach for anyone to enjoy. We eat Italian style, which for an event like this is plastic table clothes, plastic plates carefully separated and stacked askew, great wine chilling outside on the sidewalk, and mountains of food. All is joy.. unless you don’t eat, then mild horror crosses people’s faces. I appropriate ate very little today in preparation for the feast. It will be my last night for alcohol for awhile, and I thoroughly enjoyed the top notch prosecco tonight!

Earlier in the night I had become mildly annoyed that my husband seems to have missed the detail that tomorrow I start the estrogen patches, which to me marks the start of the cycle. He remembers that the clinic called me and me clearly dates. He remembers me making the 50% deposit yesterday and went with me to pick up the drugs at the pharmacy. But somehow he missed that a start date was confirmed and that that date was tomorrow.

I am not sure if I was annoyed at myself for being sloppy about confirming that he had actually heard all the details or at him for not paying attention…

… but either way, he melted my heart and all was forgiven as midnight struck here in Italy. As he leaned in for a New Year’s kiss , he simply said "and so it begins!!!" with a twinkle in his eye and such love in his voice.

Whatever the outcome, I am letting myself fully dream this time. I am not over thinking things nor researching the details to death. I did my due diligence and now, let’s see what the professionals can do!