Am I Supposed to be Envious and Bitter?

Many people have extended sympathy to me around events like Mother's Day, the birth of my niece, and baby showers. They say, "I know that must be hard for you." Or they avoid saying it to me because they're nervous to provoke an emotional outpouring from me, so they say it to Nicole. It makes me feel like there is something wrong with me that these things DON'T bother me. At all.

My niece has made me an aunt and has allowed me the opportunity to watch my sister become a beautiful mother. My heart soared at knowing Felicity was in the world, and at seeing my sister's much-fought-for dream come true. This little girl has added so much light to my life.

Mother's Day felt like it does every year; it gave me an opportunity to appreciate my mother and mother-in-law, and didn't feel like something that was supposed to be for ME. And this year it allowed me to appreciate and feel excited about my sister and best friend being honored on this day for the first time. It doesn't apply to me yet, so I just didn't think of myself.

Baby showers give me the chance to celebrate something momentous in the lives of people close to me. I just glow watching my friends smile and soak it up. This is their moment.

Am I supposed to be envious? Am I supposed to begrudge others their joy because I'm not there yet? Because I just don't. It doesn't ever feel like it's about me in any way, no more than it ever has. Maybe this is because I've only begun trying recently, and while frustrated, I'm certainly not at a point where I feel like it's an all-consuming stressor, or where I am doubting whether it will ever happen for me.

Maybe it's like being at a wedding when you're single at 36 after a lifetime of failed relationships, versus being at a wedding when you're in a relationship but not engaged yet. The first person may be a little more emotional or sensitive because they have truly started to wonder whether this will ever happen for them and are having a tough time watching it seemingly happen for everyone else, while the second person is confident of marriage being their imminent path so it doesn't bother them in the same way. I know we will be parents, and I feel pretty confident that this will happen through pregnancy. And in the meantime, the rest of life goes on and I feel only joy at being part of the lives of my friends and family, no matter what their journeys and what they have.

Now ask me again in six months, and maybe my answer will be different!

Can't Stop Myself!!!

I've been pretty chill for the past week. I've gone the majority of my days without thinking about this, and have been very productive and focused at work. My wife also was just offered (and accepted) a new job, so I've been caught up in helping her deal with indecisiveness and anxiety and insecurity and grief. I've been comforting her and reassuring her and encouraging her. In fact, I've gotten so swept up in actual life that it seems like my IUI procedure was WAY more than a week ago. All of a sudden I'll realize how many days I still have left before I find out, and it seems impossibly far away. Not even because I'm anxious, but simply because it feels like how could it have only been a week? It's such a distant memory!

So I've been good with not trying to think about symptoms etc. We set up a game plan for if it doesn't happen this time, and I've been in a place of mostly assuming it hasn't. A place of resignation. Even when I had a sharp pain in my lower right abdomen a few days ago that had me almost doubled over while walking down the hall at work. Because really, what could that be? Yes, it was in the right spot, but whatever is potentially happening in there is microscopic. So it had to be random. Then when I felt a pinching feeling there today, same thing. That's not something I've ever heard about, and it just doesn't make sense that I'd be feeling something like that.

Then today I was running down the subway stairs to catch a train and my breasts were so sore as they bounced. I'm an A cup, people. Bouncing is very minimal and doesn't hurt or bother me in the slightest. Even at home, as I walk around, they are sore. But not to the touch. I try pressing on them and don't feel much, but just moving around, they feel very tender. And oddly, much of the tenderness is at the sides, which is not a typical place I feel it when I get some sensitivity around my period. But I'm on progesterone supplements, so this isn't anything to overthink, and certainly not anything to trust.

So why am I starting to feel that dreaded glimmer of hope? I've done so well for a week!! And now the next week may slowly become torment again, followed by a horrible crash. I'm setting myself up to be a disappointed fool again, but I can't seem to help it.

Cycle 3

Last cycle, I ovulated earlier than expected. I went in for my first check on Day 11 and was already surging and ready to go on Day 12. So this time they told me to come in on Day 10 just to be sure we don't miss it since we cut it so close last month. Day 10 was on a Sunday, so we had to drive out to the Melville office 30 minutes east, as our location isn't open on Sundays. My follicle was only 13mm (remember, 20-22 is typical at ovulation, and so far I've been at 18 the day prior to insemination) so I wasn't surprised to get the official call with my bloodwork results and instructions not to come back for another check until Tuesday.

Today, Tuesday, Day 12, I went back in and my follicle was only 16mm. Last cycle I was ovulating on Day 12, and this time I wasn't even close! The PA told me I probably wouldn't need to come back until Thursday for another check, but of course they would assess for sure after getting my bloodwork back and would call me later in the day. So I understandably figured that meant IUI Friday and/or Saturday.

Well, we've learned a couple things now, haven't we. One, that the PA tends to talk before she should, and frequently has to correct herself after speaking too soon. And two, that my body is unpredictable and does whatever the frig it wants and we can't really base much on prior cycles.

So while I had already packed my Ovidrel injection in a lunchbox to take to work so I would never be caught without it when I got the call, I had actually felt silly bringing it today, knowing I was only at 16mm and would be bringing it right back home. I did not expect the call at 1:30PM saying that I was surging and needed to come in the next day. I said, "But my follicle is only 16mm!" and the nurse said, "but you're starting to surge so you're going to ovulate. You ovulated on Day 12 last month, and tomorrow's Day 13 so it's not so unusual." Well yes, except that the PA seemed to think it was a couple days off still due to my follicle size. I wasn't second-guessing it out of nowhere! She said, "Unfortunately, we can't get you in until 9:30." I said, "9:30 is fine." She said, "Really?? No one ever thinks that's fine!"

I guess that makes sense for people who can't take off of work and want to go in at 7:00 and get to work by 9:00. It's different for me because I work in the Bronx and have to plan to take the day off or else go in super late no matter what. But it made me realize how fortunate I am to have the option to take off time with such little notice in order to make sure this happens. As much as this baby-to-be is a priority and I barely blink at having to take off the day for its creation, I also know it's a privilege that I can do so relatively easily. If I was putting my job at risk by doing this every month, I'd have to think of it differently.

When I met with the PA this morning for cycle monitoring, she gently suggested that I consider Clomid if I don't get pregnant this cycle. She suggested I schedule an appointment with Dr. K for after the next pregnancy test (which I could cancel if pregnant) to sit down and talk about side effects, etc. I said, "Isn't that the higher case rate that's $2900? I get that we may need to try something different if it doesn't work this time, but we'd have to take some time off to save up for that." She said, "No, the case rate is the same. You're just buying the Clomid which is a hundred and something." WHAT?? This whole time I have thought that anything other than a "natural" cycle cost an extra thousand. If someone had been clear about that, maybe I would have resorted to Clomid by this third cycle, but now it's too late.

At the same time, though, I'm kind of conflicted. I feel like the obvious choice is Clomid because why wouldn't I want to double or triple my chances with each $3000 we're laying down? But some part of me is just so resistant to adding in drugs. I'm very aware of the irony of fixating on "natural" considering the procedures we have to undergo to conceive, but I felt so much more comfortable with the notion of a natural cycle. I feel so grateful for having a healthy reproductive system that ovulates regularly, and stubbornly I just want to be able to put sperm in there and make it happen because I feel like it's supposed to. It's sort of like circumcision; I'm resigned to what seems like the obvious choice and the right choice for me, but emotionally and psychologically I'm struggling with it.

Here's hoping I get pregnant this month and don't need to worry about it.

Allow Me a Moment of Sappiness

Last week, I unintentionally broke down crying to my rabbi about our fertility journey. I was understandably experiencing the raw emotions of the week, which I won't discount or excuse, but I was also just coming down off of artificially elevated levels of progesterone for an artificially long stretch of time. I was very fragile, with my emotions just barely under the surface. I could hardly keep tears back at very random times. Rabbi came to check on me after our workshop last Saturday, and I just broke down. She talked to me for a full half hour about it and then invited me to come talk with her more privately the following week when I would be off of work after returning from a trip south to visit my family. Sometimes she didn't speak and just let me cry and be emotional, without her trying to rush me out of that place because it made her uncomfortable. And she also offered some beautiful and reassuring perspectives. I left feeling like a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders.

I've now encountered enough other rabbis to realize that mine is one of a kind. She's not just great because I'm a zealous convert and "I love Judaism and RABBIS ARE AMAZING!!!" I mean I wish that were true, and there certainly are many amazing and wonderful clergy out there in the Jewish world. I've been fortunate to encounter a couple of them. But many are just...not the whole package. Maybe they are super smart but not so engaging and inspiring. Maybe they are kind but not strong leaders. Maybe they do wonderful work with their elderly congregants but are totally awkward with the little kids. Maybe they are great congregational leaders but are hard to relate to on a more personal level.

Let me tell you about my rabbi.

My rabbi was not raised with much observance and came to love and embrace her Jewish identity in young adulthood. She worked in a completely different arena for some time before hearing the call to be a rabbi. She can relate to both converts and Jews seeking more observance than they were raised with. She understands learners. She gets the excitement and the significance of discovery and rediscovery.

My rabbi can be completely at ease with the elderly who seek her out for support around phase-of-life issues. She can connect with them on a sincere level, and they have the utmost respect for her. Then she leads Tot Shabbat and is like a cast member of "The Wiggles," commanding the full wide-eyed attention of ten or fifteen toddlers as she dances and sings and gets down on her knees to act out stories or lyrics as if she were thirty years younger. The children are smitten by her, coming up to touch her and hug her and tell her stories, any stories, to have her attention.

My rabbi is the sole rabbi of a congregation of 270 families plus non-members who are regulars, and she knows everyone's name. At any congregational meeting or service or class, I have never seen her unable to call on someone by name when their hand goes up. She is perceptive and attentive. She seeks out individual people to ask how they are or to follow up on a trouble or a joy that they previously shared with her.

My rabbi always has comforting advice and guidance to offer, and it's never from a position of being higher up or more enlightened. In fact, almost everything she offers comes with a story or example from her own life where she has felt similarly vulnerable or struggles with something. She doesn't pretend to be anything less than a fallible human who is just another Jew trying to do her best and learning a lot along the way.

My rabbi is an incredible teacher. She knows how to meet her audience where they are and explain things in a way that that particular demographic (or mix of demographics) can understand. She doesn't lecture; she offers information and then engages people in discussion. She knows what questions to ask to get us thinking and talking, and she takes just as much pleasure in learning from our unique perspectives as she does in sharing her own. And she is smart as a whip! She can tease apart the driest Torah portion about the color and fabric of priestly linens and somehow make it completely relevant to our modern lives.

My rabbi is never ruffled and can speak off the top of her head without preparation whenever she needs to. She can say a beautiful blessing spontaneously, on any occasion and for any individual, and make it incredibly personal, meaningful, and beautiful. She can redirect a heated conversation or a quirky, over-the-top participant who is dominating the conversation and irritating others without being short or dismissive. She is a peacemaker and a peacekeeper.

My rabbi has a soft and quiet demeanor but is tough and fierce under the surface. She will advocate and fight for social justice, and rally others around her to join in, but does it in a gentle yet firm way that ensures she is heard and not shut down or dismissed.

My rabbi does not clock in and clock out. She goes way beyond her job description to offer comfort to her congregants and to participate in their lives (as invited) to help them live more Jewishly or to infuse more spiritual meaning into their lives. I am still in awe that she would offer to spend an entire Saturday afternoon in our home, helping us affix mezuzahs and blessing our home. And yet she is still able to create and enforce appropriate boundaries and be protective of her time with her family.

My rabbi always seems in charge but never in power. She gracefully assumes a leadership position without ever giving off the impression that she is controlling. And that's because she's not. She welcomes opinions, discourse, suggestions, disagreement. She requests it. And in the end she will make sure the right thing happens, whether or not it originated with her. She is open, receptive, democratic.

My rabbi inspires curiosity about our traditions and a thirst for knowledge. She makes people feel safe, not judged, unconditionally cared for. She makes us feel at home.