WRITE OUT LOUD

What Would You Do?

2010-05-26T23:23:00.003-04:00

Friday night I was by my lonesome. DH was trying his luck to see if he could score a last minute ticket to see Pearl Jam at MSG because seeing them twice in one week is just not enough. The only reason I didn't join in is because I was physically exhausted from seeing them Tues and Thurs night and getting home at 1 am on a work night made me realize I'm not 25 anymore.

Anyway I digress, so Friday night it was just me and Jack, some food in the freezer and Friday night television. Its a rarity for me to watch live TV. Ever since we got the DVR (lovely device) we tape everything and usually catch up on the weeks shows over the weekend. Since I didn't want to watch what we'd recorded without DH, I resorted to live TV - commercials and all.

I came across this program called "What Would You Do?" - it was on ABC I think and it was a hidden camera show where they have actors put in certain stressful situations to see how people will react. I only caught the tail end where they had an older actress at a pharmacy trying to purchase much needed medication only to find out her insurance no longer covered it and she had to pay $150 or so and didn't have the money. I was amazed to find that several people offered to help her pay for her medicine and some paid for the whole thing for a complete stranger in distress. One woman, who herself only survived on social security, gave $20 to help and that just blew me away.

I must say that I am somewhat cynical when it comes to my own human race. I see us as a people who for the most part destroy, deceive, harbor jealousy and greed and the list goes on. Watching this show, however, really restored a bit of faith in mankind for me. It warmed my heart to see strangers helping strangers.

Now if we could just get those drug companies to be a bit more selfless, put aside their greed and see the reality that there are millions of people who need medication that they can't afford, then my outlook might really become sunny.

Unfruitful Sex Just Outside The City

2010-05-13T23:23:00.002-04:00

One of my all time favorite shows is Sex and the City. I used to watch it religiously and one day even went so far as to go on the show's site on HBO just to look around. While there, I took a quiz that determines which SATC girl you are. Of course we all think we're "Carries" but I turned out to be a "Charlotte" although I really couldn't see the resemblance. Well in recent days I'm beginning to feel more and more like Charlotte. No, I didn't move to Park Ave or convert to Judaism but it turns out that much like her, our attempts TTC are going to require a lot more time and effort than I would like or even have imagined.

I remember the one episode of SATC when Miranda inadvertently got pregnant and how devastated Charlotte was to the point where she was almost cruel. I remember thinking that she was over-reacting and being a completely unsupportive friend but this was all pre-TTC. I think some crazy switch goes off in a woman's head when she's ready to be maternal and the greater the time that elapses, the more emotional one seems to get. I found out this week that a good friend who wasn't really trying to get pregnant is in fact now expecting. My initial reaction was complete elation for her but trailing right behind the happiness was a cloud of sadness and despair for me and for once I kinda saw where Charlotte was coming from. I've been taking all the right vitamins, highlighting and counting days on a calendar like Galileo, monitoring all sorts of bodily fluids and at the end of the month get slapped in the face with a BFN. Don't get me wrong, I would not turn my back on a friend and am truly happy for their gift but I still can't seem to suppress feelings of my own self woe.

I don't know if its some law of physics that seems to magnetically bring all pregnant women walking in my direction or sit next to me but lately it seems wherever I turn there's a bump or a baby announcement in the mail. Everyone keeps saying "Don't think about it" well that's pretty hard to do when I can't take a step without constantly being reminded of my empty womb. Most of my friends have all conceived effortlessly which always led me to believe that once we stopped preventing that poof it would happen. Nowadays I find some solace on infertility forums of others who are struggling but it still doesn't really take the edge off.

I know that in this day and age science has taken the role of God but I sure was hoping to do this the good old natural way. Although currently our chances of conceiving naturally are greatly compromised, I still do feel hopeful each month. "You never know" I keep telling myself. This past month I buckled down and bought an ovulation kit. I was so thrilled when the little digital screen showed a happy face. I've gotten so many BFN's that seeing a happy face even if its just for ovulation gave me a sense of hope.

A Box of Memories

2010-04-06T23:54:00.000-04:00

For the past 2 years, I walked in and out of the basement to the car and passed an old, musty leather suitcase wrapped in that airport plastic hoping that it’s just an apparition I saw. This suitcase was brought over all the way from Istanbul; its contents were about a hundred audio cassette tapes that belonged to my DH in his more youthful long haired days (and one old, smelly, torn jacket from the 80’s – lets not even go there). I begged and pleaded for him not to drag miles of audio tape across the ocean, that he would never listen to them and where the heck would we put it? He, being the sentimental person he is, said those tapes (and the jacket) had memories and he had to keep them. The suitcase resided at my mom’s house for some time…out of site, out of mind. A couple of years ago she said that it had to go and in the basement it went. I had high hopes that DH would open it and organize its contents in a safe place because these were very important after all. Much to my dismay, the bag just sat there until last week when I bought some bins to house the prized cassettes and threw out the luggage once and for all. Upon opening the circa 1970’s suitcase, among the many cassettes stood an old shoe box. Inside the shoe box were all the letters I had written him when we were long distance dating, all the pictures I had sent, even the envelopes they came in. It was quite surreal to see the words I had written 10 years ago on stationary I had picked right back in my own hands and so comforting to know that he kept all of it.

Let’s rewind to 1999 when I met DH. (Well this is not quite true. He lived in the apartment next to my grandma’s in Turkey so I’ve known him for years but it wasn’t until 1999 that we re-connected.) I had just graduated college, broken up with a psycho boyfriend and concluded an amazing backpacking trip thru Europe with a friend in the prime of my life. Turkey was my last stop and all I wanted to do while I was there was spend time with my grandparents and see my friends. Men and dating were the last things on my mind and it always seemed that the times that I wanted men the least were always the times I’d meet someone I wanted most. This time was no different; I did I meet someone great – wonderful in fact but I really didn’t want to engage in a long distance relationship especially at a time when I was starting a new life. Anyone that has fallen in love knows that you don’t really get to chose who you fall for, it just happens, and so it did. We spent an amazing 4 weeks together but the day came where I had to leave. We were fortunate enough to have the Internet, email and chatting – without this, I don’t think our relationship would have lasted but there is a certain romanticism to words written by hand on paper that you know was touched by the one you love that Windows just can’t replicate. So in between the video chats and IM’s, I would go to the mail box each day in hopes to find those envelopes that they only seem to sell in Europe with the red and blue border around it and my heart would skip a beat when one would arrive.

Fast forward 11 years and you’ll find that DH left his life and family to start a new one here with me and we have been married now almost 7 years. It seems no matter how conscious a person is to not let a marriage get stale and mundane, it inevitably seems to happen. You fall into a routine, things that were once cute become annoying and the conversations (especially during the week) consist mostly of what’s for dinner and who’s going to take the dog out. One day while perusing the ever favorite Self Help section of Borders, I stumbled upon a book called “We Love Each Other But…” by Patricia Wachtel. In this book, one of the main points she touches upon to jump start love is for couples to remember what it was like when they first met one another. For some, this might be difficult to do but for once we are at an advantage! We not only have memories but have written records of our time together and our time apart. Since the recent discovery of the treasure trove of memories in the basement, DH and I agreed to take out one letter that we wrote to each other and read it on our anniversary (or as often as necessary to reboot) to remember how we felt back then and what we went though to be together.

Growing Up Hairy

2010-03-22T00:32:00.009-04:00

I am a pure bred Armenian and for those who don’t know, Armenians are stereotyped as being “hairy”. Most ethnic stereotypes are grossly exaggerated. In my case, however, its somewhat spot on.

My mother said I was born with hair on my legs. My aunt always tells the story of the day I was born when they looked at my plump legs and said “Yep, she’s going to be a hairy one”. I didn’t become aware of my overgrowth until the 4th or 5th grade when a very observant peer pointed it out to me and the class that I had a mustache and looked like a monkey. Oh kids, how cruel they can be. As if going through puberty and desire to fit in wasn’t hard enough, I was now coined as the hairy girl (not a boy’s first choice to ask to the dance). In a sea of fair skinned blond girls, there I was, oily olive skin, hair the color of asphalt, a uni-brow and mustache that made some of the boys jealous.

I did what anyone else in my place would have done, I went home crying, developed an extreme insecurity and begged my mother to let me shave. My mother, being a veteran hairy person herself, said that under no condition could I shave. She said that shaving will turn my already bushy legs into a hair brush. The only way to successfully rid this fuzz was to wax. She vowed that waxing lasted longer and in time would make the hair grow less and less. Her argument was convincing and not knowing what waxing was I happily agreed. Most American mom’s can remember their daughter’s 1st ballet recital or 1st dance. My mother, on the other hand, will never forget my 1st waxing session. If anyone heard me that day they probably would have called DYFS. With each pull of the strip, however, I just kept thinking of how great it will be to be hair-free and just bore the pain. It was this day that a crusader was born.

Since the age of 10, I have been fighting hair like a fierce soldier. Through the battle, I have tried every product and method known to infomercials and man. From slathering hair melting creams to using small pieces of sand paper which is supposed to remove the hair (and a layer of skin) to the ever popular Epilady (which I still use by the way). Some of these methods were successful, some, not so much. At the ripe age of 13, I gave up ice skating lessons to start electrolysis. For several years, a ½ hr a week, I visited an electrologist who stuck a needle in each of my pores on my upper lip and sent an electric current to kill the hair follicle (sounds fun!). An effective yet pain staking and expensive method but the only permanent method available back then.

I am a firm believer in “everything happens for a reason” and I think were it not for my hair, I would have never met my best friend. When I entered high school, my mom signed me up for the youth group at church so that I can meet other fellow Armenians. One day at the church bazaar, a girl who was part of the group approached me and said “I hear you go for electrolysis – what’s it like?” From that day forward grew a remarkable friendship. I was finally able to vocalize my insecurities and between exchanged notes about our experiences we realized we had more in common than dark hair. Most best friends might remember their 1st sleep over or 1st time they got drunk together but my BF and I remember our 1st laser electrolysis appointment which was the day that changed our lives. Now, 22 years later, I can say that I achieved victory: I am mostly hair free (thanks to the almighty laser and my mother for not letting me shave), mostly insecurity free and my quest to end hair led me to a wonderful person who I love like a sister.

*Please note that I do not endorse or encourage any method of hair removal since different people respond to different methods. I would be happy to answer any questions on hair removal based on my own experience*

Coats for Kids

2010-03-17T12:02:00.002-04:00

Every morning I wake up, tear myself from the loving embrace of my toasty bed to take my beloved Jack for his morning walk. This ritual is followed rain or shine, hot or cold. Since in recent months it’s been nothing but cold, I bundle up to the point where my outfit can pass as a burka. I leave a narrow slit between hat and scarf to partially see where I’m going and be on the look out for any sneaky squirrels. Our home is close to the high school and we encounter several teens on our daily route. These youngsters are observed wearing a scanty t-shirt with a mere zip hoodie on top. Not a hat on the head or a glove on the hand. Its averaged 20-30 degrees all winter and these deprived youths don’t appear to have coats. Its not just one or two, male or female, but all who seem without a proper cover up.

Judging by the way these kids are dressed, one would think that I live in an impoverished area. Quite the contrary, I live in Northern NJ amidst many affluent homes (I happen to live in a meager townhouse on the other side of the tracks but share the same zip code none the less). So it baffles me that in the bitter windy cold with two feet of snow on the ground, our futures traipse around with a thin piece of fleece. Is it because they are young and have higher body temperatures? Have coats become out of style in the 15 years since I’ve been a high school student? Has the economy affected even the well-to-do to the point that they cannot afford coats for their children? (Although, I don’t think the recession is the problem because these coat-less kids are all wearing $200 Uggs on their feet.) Perhaps I have become too far removed from the teenage world to understand this phenomenon so I will continue to shroud myself in layers outside and deem this yet another unsolved mystery.

Jack the Dog

2010-03-11T23:35:00.004-05:00

It was Spring of 2007 when my husband and I felt ready to make the commitment to expand our family and bring into our lives a long awaited four legged friend. Before getting married to DH, I had made it very clear that I could not live a life that did not involve a dog. He had never lived with pets but wanted to be with me so if that meant a dog in our future then so be it. At the time there were only 2 things we knew 1) we wanted to get a Lab 2) we would only rescue/adopt. Before delving into the adoption process, we read several books, explored many websites and religiously watched Dog Whisperer episodes to broaden our knowledge of dogs, the breed, training and care. We found a great Lab Rescue aptly named Labs4rescue through Petfinder.com but our exciting journey into dog ownership slowly became discouraging. We had filled out what seemed to be as lengthy as a college application and requested several dogs, but none of them were deemed suitable for us. The DH and I both work full time and as if that wasn’t bad enough, we live in a townhouse that does not have a fenced in yard – 2 huge marks against us. Not willing to give up and wanting a dog now, more than ever, we continued on with the search.

One Saturday morning, we saw a new posting of a goofy looking yellow lab, crossed our fingers and sent in the request. Later that afternoon, I received a call from a volunteer who put me in touch with the woman in Louisiana who had taken this dog out of the local euthanizing shelter. I was on the phone with this sweet southern woman for quite a while and felt as if I had known her for years. I was told that this handsome fellow was found wandering the side of a highway in LA with a case of heartworms and Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. The following day, the volunteer called and said that we could adopt this pooch and he was to arrive in 1 week! Like any proud soon to be parents would do, we immediately went to the pet store to prep our home with food, bed, toys, treats and agreed on his new name “JACK”. I’ll never forget the day we picked him up from the drop off location. We saw him with the amazing volunteers who had been driving for 2 days to give these dogs a second chance at a permanent home and it was instant love.

Our first order of business was to take Jack on a good long walk to get accustomed to his new surroundings and scents. It wasn't a second after closing the door that Jack spotted a neighborhood squirrel and darted after it almost dislocating my shoulder with it. The first walk and several other walks thereafter were quite a challenge. It was difficult at first adjusting to this animal that we did not know, who did not know us and apparently did not know much else either. With patience, persistence, consistency (and a few trips to physical therapy) it wasn’t long before Jack learned all of his commands, began to exercise (some) self control around the squirrels and bunnies and has become a dog that has broken the mold for us. It’s hard to say who got rescued in our situation. Because of my daily walks with Jack I was able lose weight. We met so many people in our neighborhood that we otherwise wouldn’t have had it not been for Jack. We discovered how much we like the outdoors and learned that a wag of a tail can make all the day’s stress disappear.

Jack is certainly no Marley; he is quite well behaved which throws the million dollar dog antic book deal out of the window. Luckily we’ve never walked into a pee surprise, our furniture has remained in tact and none of my shoes have become POW’s but Jack still keeps us laughing each day with his digging in the snow and frat boy belches. There isn’t a single thing about him we don’t adore. I take that back, I could do without the shedding and constant vacuuming but if that what we have to endure to have this love in our life then it’s a small price to pay to be around his warm and fuzzy ears, that funny smell of his paws and the little jig he does when we come home. I am sure I am not the first dog owner to be smitten with their pet nor will I be the last but the love and companionship of an animal has no comparison to that of a human and it opened our hearts to a whole different level of caring. Despite what my non-animal loving family might think, Jack is not our whole life but he sure does make our life whole!

TTC and Other Acronyms I Never Knew Existed

2010-02-25T21:27:00.009-05:00

We Americans sure do love our acronyms - all 4 million of them. With the many abbreviated "words" our society has created, you can practically write an entire sentence without saying an actual word. By now we've all gotten accustomed to LOL or ROTFL when something is funny but it wasn't until a few weeks ago while reading forums on pregnancy topics where I discovered a whole new world of abbreviations I never knew existed and were it not for Google, I still wouldn't know how to communicate preconception with as few words as possible.

You see, my DH (Dear Husband) and I have been TTC (Trying To Conceive) for about a year now and have yet to witness a BFP (Big Fat Positive).
If you asked me 2 years ago (and believe me, we did get asked ALOT) about the ever sensitive "When are you having kids, you're not getting younger" question, I probably would have gone off on you and told you to "Mind your own business, I'll have kids when I'm good and ready" and secretly wonder if that would ever happen. Then almost as if overnight, the alarm on my biological clock went off and I haven't been able to hit snooze ever since.

When in high school, it is drilled into one's head that you can get pregnant at any time. So you spend most of your young adult life in fear, armed with protection to fight against dreaded PG. Even with thorough precaution, the monthly celebration when AF (Aunt Flow) arrives is so great that it overrides the PMS and all that comes with it. No one ever tells you that a normal fertile couple who BD (that's Baby Dance or make love to the regular folk) 3 - 4 times a week only have a 20 - 30% chance of conception in any given month. With these statistics its a wonder we procreate at all.

For a Type A semi control freak such as myself, if there was ever something in life I really wanted, I went after it and made it happen. It is becoming increasingly frustrating to realize how little control I seem to have with TTC. What started off as a casual, oh lets stop preventing PG and see what happens has now turned into an anxiety ridden obsession wondering why it hasn't happened. What we left to chance and God will soon turn into a science project with strips and monitors. Those close to me keep telling me not to think about it. As well intentioned as they might be, its a little difficult not to think about something that you have to map out on a calendar to try and pinpoint the only 24 hr time frame you're fertile while attempting to muster up the energy after a long day to BD and actually be into it.

The worst part of this whole process so far is the dreaded 2WW (Two Week Wait). This is the ever long period (no pun intended) between O (ovulation) and AF. It is the time to wonder if I'm heading down the road to a BFP or yet another heartbreaking BFN (Big Fat Negative). It is the span of time where I analyze every slight sensation my body feels and wonder what if. As if this torturous wait wasn't bad enough, it seems that most early pregnancy symptoms mask that of PMS so one really has no way of knowing the outcome without the 2WW.

My one year plus journey to TTC is nothing compared to some others and knock on wood hopefully we won't need the worst of the baby acronyms IVF (In Vitro Fertilization). For now, we'll keep trying, praying and counting and hope that the BFP is near...

Introduction

2010-02-14T18:00:00.008-05:00

As with any book there is a preface or introduction, so I thought it would be appropriate to have one for my blog.

I actually went on Blogger and created a page in August of 2008 but never posted anything to it. Here was this vacant URL out there waiting for words, waiting to be read but due to my ever present procrastination, nothing ever surfaced.

I was motivated to start a blog because I realized one of the things I used to love to do was write. In high school I had won awards and scholarships for the things I had written. Although my poems were what was published in school literary texts, it was the unedited, candid words residing in my diary (later referred to as a journal because I felt I was too old to have a "diary")where I found the most comfort. As an introverted teen without many friends to confide in, I found the pages of my journal to be a great listener and therapist. But for some reason as I got older, the need to consult this trusted friend diminished. Whether it was because in college and thereafter I came into my own, found those friends to confide in, or simply didn't have the time, those pages of the many blank journals I had remained uninhabited.

It wasn't until last year that I felt I could benefit from rekindling the defunct relationship between myself and my journal but times have changed. No longer do I need to keep my thoughts and words confined to the desolate pages of a journal but can create a blog, an e-journal for others to read. And even if this turns into the time that my friend and I were AM radio DJs at the Rutgers radio station which no one ever listened to, at least I will have recorded my thoughts; only this time in a more new millennium way.

Just a brief blurb about me - I am a female in my early (gasp) 30's living in Northern NJ with my husband and lovely dog. I place great value on family, sincerity and true friendship. Some of the things I am most interested in is music (Rock and Jazz mostly), travel, animals, and good food. I have a tendency to procrastinate - a flaw I am working to change (starting with this blog). I guess through future blogs more about me will inevitably be revealed..for now, this is just my world..my thoughts..and my two cents.