The things that people say

Today I feel thankful. Regardless of all the negative comments I have had to deal with since before we even got married ("the things that people say"), there are those who have said simple words or given simple gestures or acts of kindness that I remember throughout this whole ordeal.

Since I had met Gerry, everyone commented on how he would be an amazing father since he is so great with kids. A big reason why I married the bloke. Others would say we would make great parents or have beautiful babies. Maria C. told me when I first started taking clomid (fertility pills) that I would be a great mother one day. No one really ever said that to me before and it meant a lot. 

After my first miscarriage, Kylea kept checking in to see how I was doing throughout the summer – she “stayed” while some others I had just emailed about our infertility/miscarriage/hospitalization experience gave me their condolence or didn’t even respond. Some don't know what to say and start to check out as the topic is not widely discussed. Others want to focus on the happy and not the sad. It was disappointing, but reflective to know who your support group was. Andi and I had a coffee date in the sun (the first warm sun of that summer and Gerry let me go outside so long as I had a chaperone) that ended up being four hours, and not once did I feel that I had to smile in front of her.  It's important to be able to feel like your "authentic self" than to pretend to be something you are not at the time. Stevo called from Toronto and was instructing me in detail on how to get the best chinese chicken soup ever to help me recover from the surgery and pneumonia. When he was in town a few weeks later I got my dose of Stevo hugs. A few others gave their  support just by calling and visiting. They listened - advice is not always needed. 

Maureen, my online classmate in my Master's program, helped me prep for an exam I had got postponed, but more importantly she was so empathetic to a someone she had never met in person.

The second miscarriage was official three days before Christmas. We didn’t tell our families about the pregnancy as we wanted to get through the first trimester. It was especially hard as we were in limbo during the multiple ultrasounds for two weeks. My mom and brother became support crew once again and made food, bought our groceries, and understood to have a very simple Christmas Eve dinner than our annual turkey-fest. Francis and Sheryl came by with big hugs.

When I lost my job, John (my former Director then CEO, and most importantly my mentor for almost a decade) was there for me within ten minutes. I yelled, I cried, and he did some yelling too. He rallied the troops [names withheld to ensure they have privacy in the industry] to get me the supports that I needed. My colleagues from across government and the sector [names withheld again] were there for me. Even those who didn’t know that discrimination was the reason for my departure - a number of CEOs, Board members, VPs and Managers - were in full support of providing me with references. Cosmina, my dear old friend from school, told me to apply to a job at her organization that was closing that night. I hardly had the energy and brainpower but managed to update my resume by midnight (I got the job three weeks later). She continued to check in on me and provide encouragement that we will soon have a baby. Kevin, my closest friend I made from work, came over that night soon after arriving back home from a business trip, and let me cry and yell some more. When I was done, he proceeded to give me a confidence boost. Kiran was so helpful in getting all my documentation together for my lawyer. My lawyer, "Barbara the Barracuda", was awesome. She said she was appalled with my case and told me that I was a very smart girl to collect what I did. I hugged and squeezed her when it was all over.

My job loss screwed up my final project for my Master's degree. Lindsay, the hardest prof in the program, reached out to me. I spoke to her for an hour on the phone in the corner of a grocery store and she continued to "stay". 

In my first week of being unemployed for the first time since I was 15 years old, I broke down during a girls dinner nite. I hardly cry in front of anyone except Gerry and the continuous crap in my life took its toll. It was embarrassing. Nicky quickly hugged me hard and didn’t let go till I was done crying. I cried again a week later at Sandeep and Molly’s place in Seattle. It was the weekend of their daughter's first birthday but they were just happy we came. I saw a couple other friends a few weeks later and gave her the short-version of what happened thus far.  They were shocked that I could tell them all this without crying and with a smile on my face. I felt once I get through the worst patch I manage to pull it together.

After the third miscarriage from the IVF, Tara acknowledged that my email to everyone must have been really hard to write. It was, and I was thankful that she knew that without me saying it. I became penpals with Chelsea over in Edmonton who I didn’t know too well from before. Her baby was born the same month my first was to arrive. I write to her about how I feel at times and she keeps the baby updates at a minimum (but joyful and real) and her emails full of compassion.

At a party last month, Almira simply asked how I was doing with it all and I started chatting with her about where we were in the process. It’s sometimes easier than having the topic as the elephant in the room. She said she thought I was amazing for being so strong throughout all of this. That meant a lot. 

Jenn just gets it. Period. I never felt that I was misunderstood or out of place when I see her alone, with friends, or her small family. She is the mom who adores her toddler but holds a full conversation, whether that’s for my sake or just in general I’m not too sure.

Debra confirmed to me that I was not the only one who felt that adoption research is more overwhelming than infertility treatments and we have a right to feel like there will be some type of guarantee if choosing that route.

Lynn continues to give me wisdom, empathy, and inspiration either directly or each time I read her updates and facebook posts. I told her she is truly blessed to have her three sisters in her life.

Rica is our rock in the family who assures us it will all be okay - mentally, physically, and financially. “You’ll be fine in the end.”

Sanjay and Sonali have continued to provide optimism and realism at the same time. “We’ve been through this... we can't believe you guys are going through this... it can happen, it will happen... it’ll just take one way or another.”

Sapna is so always able to listen and ask me the right questions. I remember to ask God for the best possible outcome.

Our families continue to pray for us, chant for us, and believe with conviction that we will have a family.

Moshi has become a part of our family. My cousin’s neighbor found her drowning in their swimming pool in North Carolina and we got her up to Vancouver a few weeks after. This was a couple months after my first miscarriage. Gerry was ready for a dog but I wanted kids first however I caved when I saw her picture. Sometimes we joke that she is our dog-ghter. She knows me as her “mama”. Gerry is her “daddy”. I have been able to give all of this motherly affection to her that has been pent up for years, and I am grateful that we have her. Moshi makes us frustrated, makes us laugh, makes us proud, and makes us feel loved.

Sometimes this journey feels very lonely, I never had a true BFF or sister, but I am truly thankful for those who have “stayed.” There are many others who have visited, sent flowers, and called that I did not mention but who I am truly grateful for. I have to remember that the "things that people say" are not just negative, but positive. 

The most important person I am thankful for is Gerry. But that will be another dedicated post.