Category Archives: ttc

where donuts are made

one of the things that helps to illuminate those dark places in my head is travel. since little sun died, there hasn’t been enough of it in my life. i could (and should) write more about the eight different countries i’ve lived in or the many others i’ve had the immense fortune to  visit. but there is a plane to catch in about 12 hours and a 12 hour car ride ahead of us the day after tomorrow, so for now i will share some images of our very brief (but nevertheless uplifting) sojourn in the land of Helios and Athena.

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here

i’m still here…somewhere.

i’m trying to find my words, or perhaps to liberate them, but it’s not an easy thing. silence has been my stony refuge these last two years, and i’m not sure how to chisel through these walls that i’ve constructed out of desperation and self-protection. but i will try…i must try.

a lot has happened, since i stopped posting on this blog. there have been new jobs.  there have been too many trips to other countries….for embryo transfers and tests and surgical procedures. there have been more than a few negative pregnancy tests followed by excruciating (but required) blood draws to confirm what was already painfully clear. Continue reading

back to Belgium

and so we start over. again.

for the past five nights, i’ve gotten the tools out:  pen full of expensive hormones, check; bottle of alcohol, check; cotton pads, check; sharp little needle tip, check.  i assemble the parts, dial the pen to the correct dosage and stab myself in the belly.  i repeat this ritual nightly for seven nights, my motions mechanical and sure. Continue reading

coming into color

i don’t feel like i have much to say these days.  mostly i draw.  unlike a few weeks ago, i don’t feel angry or crushed, just resigned, and i find myself putting one foot in front of the other without thinking too much about where i’m going.

we spent the week following the sad ultrasound mostly glued to the couch, waiting for something scary and painful to happen, and when, after nine tense days, it didn’t, i warily started taking the miscarriage-inducing pills on the date the my doctor’s replacement told me to.   Continue reading

raise my hands, paint my spirit gold

it’s been a hard week. i have literally banged my head against walls in frustration and anger, and i have literally been brought to my knees by desperation and despair. there have been tears and hyperventilation and fits of rage so violent and unwieldy that i came very close to dashing my beloved laptop to bits. thankfully, though, the storm seems to be passing….at least for now.

i have a lot of catching up to do here. Froggy and Auntie Tan and i made a trip to Belgium over a week ago, and since then i’ve been to both Sacré-Cœur and Notre Dame. i have pictures and stories to share, but tonight is not the night for that.

instead, i want to talk about music. Continue reading

montmartre, paris

i haven’t been writing much about little sun lately, but not because i haven’t been thinking about him.  the truth is i think about him constantly. his absence is a weeping wound that never heals.  i just try to cover it….by roaming the miles and miles of small Paris neighborhoods, by filling my head with the pabulum of television and light internet reading, by drawing and drawing and drawing until my hand cramps and i see nothing but colors when i close my eyes.  under that thin surface, though, i am crying out for him, my little lost boy.  oh, god, do i miss him.

we’ve been cleared to ttc again, and i find myself inwardly freaking out.  what if it doesn’t work? what if all i ever see again are bone white hpts and an empty space in the back seat of our car? what if it does work?  what if i miscarry or there’s something wrong with the baby or my pre-eclampsia comes back worse or there’s a cord accident or the baby’s stillborn and worst of all…what if the same thing happens all over again?  at nearly 41, i’m anything but the proverbial spring chicken….if i had feathers, i’d certainly be gracing someone’s dinner table by now.  am i still even in this game? how am i going to get through all of this?  i’m so fucking scared, and i don’t know how not to be.  

so i draw and draw and read stupid shit and miss my little sun.  and in between, i try to remind myself to breathe.

and, oh, yeah, tomorrow’s the final vote on gay marriage and adoption in the French National Assembly.

a thing with wings

before you start thinking that i’ve turned this into one of those strange affirmation-laden (marketing?) blogs, i want to mention the photo above was taken at Amsterdam’s Schiphol a little over three and a half years ago during a layover.  i took that just before catching a plane for Charles de Gaulle where my dear sweet Froggy was waiting for her American girl.  that was the day i started my life with Froggy in France. Continue reading