#Microblog Mondays: What I Do Know

Standard

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.

*******

Well, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve participated in #Microblog Mondays. Lately I’ve had a lot percolating in my brain, and now that the craziness of Christmas and New Year’s are over, hopefully I will have more time to put fingers to keyboard.

The whole question of another baby has been floating around in my brain, pretty much since I had BG. Not that I/we’ve felt in any way ready (emotionally, financially and otherwise) to have another baby yet, but the question of “if” still lingers. But here’s what I do know; I do want to be pregnant again. It was not all sunshine and lollipops, I wasn’t one of those people who loved being pregnant. I didn’t feel glowing and ethereal, I felt large and round. But, it was amazing, what the body can do (when finally coerced to do it, and cooperate…).

There was still a lot of fear when I was pregnant, but I was in awe of my body, never mind its past failings. And I want to experience that again. I have always, in the back of my mind, considered being a surrogate (once I knew I could successfully get pregnant, stay pregnant, and carry a baby to term). So my thought is, if we decide that we are one and done, I would love to be a surrogate for someone. Obviously I know how the process from an IVF standpoint but I do not know the legalities, and whether I would even fall in a criteria that would allow me to be a surrogate. Now that my body has proved it is capable (at least once), I would feel honored to be able to carry for someone else who cannot. Plus, selfishly, it would allow me to experience pregnancy again, without a take home baby. Obviously the experience would be very different from carrying my own child, but special in its own way.

The other side of that coin is, we decide we are going to have another, and we go and do it. Clearly, there are no guarantees in that, we have the embryos but my body still has to get on board. If we decided we were going to have another, I would probably shelve the surrogacy idea. I would love to be able to do it, but if we decide to try for another it wouldn’t be for another couple of years, plus pregnancy time, and time enough to safely get pregnant again (as a surrogate) would push me into or past my mid thirties. Which could potentially still be fine, but then I would be on my third pregnancy, and that I can’t imagine.

It’s all a bit of a dilemma. If we decide to try for another, and I don’t want to be a surrogate after that, I feel like I am being selfish. I know that’s sort of twisted logic. It also almost feels weird to think that I could be a surrogate when it took IVF for me to get pregnant, but as far as we know there were never any problems with my uterus, it was just getting sperm to egg that was the challenge. I also feel a bit selfish that I am dreaming of another pregnancy (whether my own baby, or someone elses’) when for some that isn’t even a possibility. Beyond all of that, I would be grateful, and honored to bring another baby into this world, my own or otherwise. So I guess I’ll have to leave it at that for now, and hope that at least one of those options might come to fruition.

Advertisements

Only Child Syndrome

Standard

Interesting factoid about me; I am an only child. Ok it’s not that interesting. But what is interesting, and rather ironic now that I live in the land of IF, is the fact that I was an accident. At best, I was the accidental product of a casual relationship and an unprotected night, at worst I am the product of a one night stand. My mom and dad worked with each other, so they weren’t just a couple of randoms, but I don’t know that they were a couple. They were young, they worked with a lot of young people, they liked to party, and it was the 80’s. My mom has never outright said that he was her boyfriend, but I don’t think she wants me to think I am the product of a one night stand. I think she’s a bit of an idiot for getting pregnant by accident, but otherwise I’m not overly bothered.

My mom was 28 years old when she had me, so she wasn’t an irresponsible teenager. She had a good job, and even though she found herself pregnant out of wedlock, which in that time raised some eyebrows, she knew she wanted me, it wasn’t a question. She told my dad, but he isn’t actually from here, so he went back home to B.C. and my mom became a single parent. Every year at my birthday she loves to regale me with the story of when I was born. My god mom (my mom’s best friend) was her birth coach, and when I came out my mom proclaimed, “I got my baby girl”. She was a proud mama, and supported by all of her friends, family and coworkers.

So, that is part of the reason I don’t talk to my mom about my IF struggles, is because there is no way she could understand. And I may have actually said to her (speaking about a friend of mine), “I don’t understand how someone can get accidentally pregnant?!”. Oops, forgot who I was talking to. I think this makes her feel worse, that I was an accident, and now her accident can’t procreate even under normal circumstances, let alone on a fluke.

My mom never got married, so it was always just her and I. I had a very awkward relationship with my dad. I talked to him around my birthday and holidays. I went to visit him twice, once when I was 4 and once when I was around 13. We didn’t have a real father-daughter relationship. It was more like a distant relative, you know that one that you keep in touch with just because they’re your family and they send you a cheque for your birthday and Christmas. Once I was in my late teens contact started to wane, and now it’s been probably 3 or more years since there’s been any contact. I’m sure he still lives in the same address, and my grandma (his mom) probably does to, but I really have nothing to say to these people that I don’t know.

So sometimes people give me a sad face, or say “aw that’s too bad you didn’t have a relationship with your dad”. But to be honest, I don’t really care. I know that may sound harsh, but my parents didn’t choose to have me, and at the time my dad didn’t want to partake, but my mom did so fine, fair enough. When I was younger my mom and I lived in the basement apartment of my Aunt and Uncles’ two level split house, so we spent a lot of time with them and my cousins. My Uncle was the closest thing to a father figure. He taught me how to drive, he helped me with homework, I went to Disneyland with him, my Aunt and my cousins. They are an extension of my immediate family.

Sadly my Uncle passed away suddenly and unexpectedly in October of 2006, I believe he was 43 years old. I don’t have a relationship with my father, but my Uncle was the closest thing to having a dad around. He has two boys, who are like my brothers, and I was his little girl. When he died it was what I would imagine it’s like to lose a parent. I don’t know how I kept breathing when I found out, my body just made me. Even now, it is so hard not having him around. He would have walked me down the aisle at my wedding, but he wasn’t there. I can only say I am glad he got to meet my husband. He died 5 months after J and I started dating, so they didn’t know each other well. J will never know about my Uncle, and what I loved so much about him, but he knows that he is very dear to my heart, and if we ever have a son, our son will bear my Uncles’ name.

Sorry, I digress, I have to wipe away the tears and continue. So, because my mom never married, or found a serious life partner, I never got a sibling. Which again, people sometimes feel bad for me that I have no sibling, or when they find out I am an only child, they say “really?!” like it something shocking. But again, something I never had, so how can I feel like I am missing out? I grew up close to the daughter of my mom’s best friend as we were born mere months apart. My extended family is fairly small, so I’ve always been fairly close with all of my cousins too. I went to sleep overs with friends, and had a normal childhood. I learned to entertain myself, and play alone. Perhaps it’s why I am a bit of an introvert. Looking back I can see how it would have been nice to have someone to grow up with, but when I was a kid I just saw how annoying my friends siblings were.

Now that I am grown and married, I have siblings-in-law, though I realize it’s not the same at all, they are both awesome and annoying to have. Much like I would imagine blood siblings to be. I can also see there is a sibling dynamic that I will never understand, and that I am different because I am an only child. I didn’t realize until I was in a serious relationship with J, but I did suffer a bit from “Only Child Syndrome”. Growing up on my own has made me a bit aloof, and sometimes anti social. And although I like to think of myself as a giving person, I am still working on being less self centred. I still sometimes suck at sharing, and don’t always like to compromise. It wasn’t until I chose to live my life with another person that I gained a clearer perspective into myself.

I’d like to think that I am not one of those stereo typical narcissistic, attention seeking only children people think of when they find out you have no sibling. I feel that because I grew up in a single parent household, it somewhat balanced me out. I’ll admit I was spoiled when I was younger, but as I got older and cost my mom more money I didn’t necessarily get everything I ask for. We moved to a more affluent city when I was in sixth grade, and this put into a harsher perspective that other kids had more than me. It didn’t overly bother me, and I made friends with these other kids despite our different upbringings. I have worked since the age of 15 and paid for everything I wanted, including putting myself through university. So I became independent early on in life and have stayed that way ever since. I even have a hard time giving some things over to J, because I usually want to do everything for myself.

Since we’ve started (in)fertility treatments, we’re realizing we may not have, or want to pursue having more than one child. At first I didn’t have an issue with this. One child is less expensive, then we can devote our full attention to raising that one child right. But I can see the effect it’s had on me, while not all bad, it would be nice to have two children, so that they have each other. It may not be a dilemma I have much say in if my body is going to be this difficult. J told me after our first IUI that if this is what it took, he didn’t want more than one child (he was being a little over dramatic, we had a bad time that day). But it may be the case. Then I have to try and overcome the Only Child Syndrome in my own child. Is it easier since I know the life? Perhaps. But I guess we have to get pregnant with one first. These are the musings I have while waiting, waiting for my time.