Oh Shavuot, You Get Me Every Time

Shavuot is the harvest festival holiday at which we recall the giving of the Torah and the Ten Commandments at Sinai and remember how we made a decision to come together as a community, as one faith, with certain laws and traditions we agreed to uphold. We committed to God and God committed to us. We had both a personal and a communal experience of revelation. At Shavuot, we also read and study the Book of Ruth, who was a convert that made her own personal commitment to God, Torah, and the people Israel.

Last year, this holiday fell in mid-May, just a month after my conversion. The holiday holds so much significance to me personally as a Jew-by-choice, and I became so emotional in the service last year. I had full-on tears streaming down my face during several parts of the service, and my rabbi came up to me immediately afterward to check in with me and hug me. I told her it felt like coming out of the mikvah again, that feeling of being overwhelmed by awe and gratitude. It made sense to me that it was such an intense day for me then, but I don't think I expected this to hit me with the same power over a year later!

The holiday began the previous evening with Tikkun Leil Shavuot, a traditionally all-night study session that we do for a few hours. It's traditional to eat dairy on this holiday and people usually make cheese blintzes or cheesecake. I went a little nontraditional and made a tres leches cake, which earned rave (and heartwarming) reviews. We read the book of Ruth with discussion, and then Cantor and Rabbi each taught from it using a different perspective. We got so caught up in conversation that we went way over the time and had to stop ourselves. Then we went to the sanctuary for a brief ritual wherein we talked a little about the Ten Commandments (such as how the first half is about belief in God but the second half is about how we treat others, showing us that how we live is even more important than how we believe). We ended by passing around a Torah scroll so we could each have our moment holding it. It was a simple but powerful little ceremony that made me understand why people study all night in preparation for spiritually receiving Torah. This felt like pausing a movie at the critical climax to go brush your teeth and go to bed before resuming it the next day!

I took the bus to temple, though Nicole had offered for me to drop her off at work and take the car. I liked doing something a little different, something that required a little more effort than how I usually get to temple. It made me feel like I was making a bit of my own trek to Sinai. I thoroughly enjoyed the 10 to 15 minute walk up to the road with the bus I needed; I smelled the flowers, heard the birds and mowers, felt the breeze, watched people gardening. Then I got to temple early and was the first one in the sanctuary. I just sat there soaking up God and letting myself feel that gratitude and wonder, and I was soon crying before it had even begun! I got pulled back out of it as people started coming in, but then had a few other breakdowns throughout the service, just feeling the enormity of how Judaism has impacted me, how very fortunate I am to have taken every step in my life that led me to where I am now and to this beautiful discovery that has changed my life.

I left feeling utterly at peace. The intensity and excitement and anticipation leading up to my conversion versus my life since then reminds me of planning a wedding versus settling into the actual marriage. Things have calmed down, I feel settled and secure and comfortable. I even come to take it for granted because it's my normal now. I really appreciate having an opportunity, at least once a year, to reflect on that period when I formally chose Judaism and made my own commitment. It's beautiful to continue having a communally sanctioned opportunity to recommit and to not take it all for granted for at least that one day, but to thank God for having brought me here and given me something so dear to me. It's a chance to really appreciate my community, my clergy, my faith, my traditions, and my life in a newly refreshed way.

So now what?

I met with the doctor two days after my pregnancy test, as scheduled, and she told me that she expected it to have happened by now, that I have been checked for everything that it is possible to check, and so has the sperm, so it should be happening. She recommended starting Clomid and went over the side effects with me, both the common and the rare but severe. She said that it would give more opportunities for fertilization, and then I should move on quickly if that isn't working either. She also suggested choosing a new donor, stating that it's possible that this sperm just isn't a match for my body. She said that she normally can't suggest this as an early-on solution because couples with a male partner would obviously not be quick to give up on his sperm. But we have "the luxury" of trying a switch there to see if that works.

I tried to explain to her, without investing too much energy into getting her to understand the emotional stakes, that choosing a donor was a very intensive process. We put a lot into it and it was very difficult to find the perfect one, and we're hesitant to give up on it and start all over with a donor search if we really just need to be patient for a couple more months. So she suggested doing one Clomid cycle with this donor, and then a second with a new donor if that doesn't work, and then if it STILL doesn't work, we should look at IVF. Of course this rushed plan assumes that my body actually responds to the Clomid and makes two to three eggs in each of these two additional cycles, which, spoiler alert, it hasn't yet.

I bristled at the mention of IVF. I just don't think I'm ready to go there yet. It's so intense and puts my body through so much - and while I won't hesitate to do it if I am truly convinced that that's my only way to achieve pregnancy, there's something about it that feels more artificial and disturbs me just a bit. Not enough to never do it, but enough not to want to jump to it prematurely as a shortcut. It's also super expensive, and since if I AM infertile it would be "unexplained infertility," my insurance won't cover it this early on. I just don't think I'm ready to be at my last resort. It's only been three tries!

I was taking one pill prior to this journey. ONE.

Another option is a recently offered known donor. My wife's friend's husband has always wanted to donate, and his wife said this would be the only way she would feel comfortable with it, if it is to help friends she knows personally. They live in Massachusetts and would be someone that our child could have access to but wouldn't grow up around or be close with. We could get a few free tries out of this (the cost of travel and hotel stay during a fertile week would still be so insignificant compared to our current fertility expenses), and if that didn't work - with a new donor and using fresh sperm as frequently as we need to - then we could embrace the "unexplained infertility" and discuss IVF. (We could even be saving up for that in the meantime, just in case.)

But this is STILL not something I just want to jump to. What if my body just needs a little more time? It's the doctor's job not to let people just put their money in a sinkhole without suggesting trying something different. That's their agenda. But my agenda is stubbornly spending more money than we have on something that hasn't been working. What is the middle ground? Who is right? I don't think there's any way to tell unless I could live in a parallel universe and try both options to see what works first. But we don't have that luxury, and we have to make a decision. At what point do we give up on our cherished donor? At what point do we give up on IUI? At what point do we give up on using a clinic and suck up the complications of using a known donor? We could make a sharp left turn and never know that that was the month it would have worked if we'd stayed the course. Every month that we have to decide whether to make a life-altering, future-altering change to our plans, we have the nagging question, "But what if this next month would be the one when it works?"

The pressure is more than either of us can stand right now. We feel at a breaking point. What I DO know is that, as per my sonogram this morning, this low dose of Clomid did nothing for me and I have only one egg to try with this month. So I'm trying to relax and do this "one more cycle" without worrying about the what-ifs, because if it doesn't work, we will unfortunately have a few months off to think it all through a million times over.

Hand-drawn Chinese fertility art that A&A passed on to us and is now hanging up next to our bed. Note the phallic image pointing right toward the empty tunnel, and the babies pouring out of the other tunnel. Classic.

Annnnnd the Envy Sets In

I was not surprised at this third negative pregnancy test, because the few symptoms that had started to give me hope began to disappear the weekend before. As my breast tenderness decreased dramatically within a few days, I could only assume that my natural levels of progesterone were beginning to drop, and that any residual soreness was due to the supplement. I was so convinced that I didn't even have that tough of a time waiting until the day of the blood test before taking a home test. And I didn't even cry. I felt disappointed and I felt sad, but it was a continuation of the disappointment and sadness that I'd been feeling for several days since I felt my body getting ready for a period.

I didn't cry for an entire week, until the night we went out to dinner with my friend Allyson and her husband and they announced that they were having a baby. Now it hit me. I smiled and squealed and congratulated her and kept talking excitedly in order to keep myself distracted and keep my bubbling emotions under control. She said that they were planning to do a big reveal at that Saturday's housewarming party but that she didn't want me caught off guard in a crowd because she knows how sensitive this is. I reassured her, because I really don't want to take away from her joy and don't want her to have to walk on eggshells around me because I'm not pregnant yet. I already know that when it's my turn, there are people struggling to conceive that I will have difficulty sharing the news with. I don't want her to feel that way, even though I know it's natural.

But this is the first time such news DID really hurt. I think it's because we haven't been in this place when other people close to us have gotten pregnant. I might have been emotionally ready, but we weren't financially so we hadn't started trying. Yes, I was impatient for it to be our turn, but I knew our turn was coming, and soon, so it didn't take anything away from my genuine joy for the parents-to-be. It never felt like it had anything to do with me. We hadn't started down that path yet, so it wasn't a race!

But this time, we have. No, it's still not a race, but it's not just a matter of "when." It's a matter of how, and how much, and what do we do next, and when do we draw a line and try something else, and will this happen before my agency's maternity leave policy drastically changes for the worse in exactly one year. And this is a friend who started trying at the same time as me. She came off of birth control the same month we first went for insemination, and we talked excitedly about raising kids side by side and even being pregnant together. She hasn't kept me updated since then, so I had assumed it hadn't happened for them yet either and she just didn't want to talk about it. But that wasn't why she didn't want to talk about it.

So she got pregnant the first time. She came off her birth control, made love to her husband, and conceived a child. Just like that. I've taken odd comfort in knowing that even for straight couples, it isn't so easy. That it isn't always a romantic sexual experience. That it can be frustrating and a lot of pressure and can up-end people's sex lives when they have to follow a schedule and consummate on demand. But my friend had the best case scenario, and I'm struggling to be happy for her. I would never, ever wish this on her, but I am feeling envious. And going to her party where half of their friends had babies with them did not ease it. My heart hurt and my arms felt empty. I felt sad watching her be welcomed into the fold of young parents and knowing our own circle is waiting impatiently with us for us to join them.

It's easy to say "be patient, your time will come" - but we are now $12,000 in and have no idea when this will happen. We've run out of money. We had to charge half of this final cycle, and if it doesn't work, will have to take a break for a few months to save up all over again for even one or two more cycles. There is a lot at stake that makes it very difficult to just let go.
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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.