I love you dear, you're annoying, now write!!

I've been told by my dear husband that if I don't start writing again he will kill me. Ok, those are not his exact words. It was probably more along the lines of "your moodiness used to be slightly offset by the fact you are cute. Now it's beyond annoying. There's the door".

I have been going ga-ga lately. The first year of anything major, especially having a kid, can do a job on one's mental health. One year ago, I was able to leave the house without as much as a thought - get the car keys and go. These days, with an active baby in tow, leaving the house takes military strategy:

-Start leaving an hour before I need to leave.

-Is there enough milk in the bottle(s)? (even though I am exclusively nursing, a little milk in the bottle is a good pacifier when in line at the store).

-Do I have enough clean (cloth) diapers? (yes I am doing the cloth diaper thing and lovin' it).

-What mood is the baby in now? Is she awake? If she's asleep should I wake her now so that I can nurse her to be in a good enough mood to leave without crying in the car?

-Do I have at least 2 changes of baby clothes? (so sue me if I overpack, you wouldn't want me to have the child go naked!).

-Do I need to eat? Nursing makes me hungry ALL THE TIME. Is there anything to eat in the house????

-Make sure I have my cell phone. Did I charge it? WHERE is my cell phone??

-Where is my purse/wallet/planner - did I leave it upstairs again??

-Need to make sure I have THAT toy to bring with - is it clean? Did it I step on it? Don't want the child to get some strange infection because I wasn't careful, G-d forbid, poo poo poo!

-How warm/cold is it outside? Should I put the jacket/parka/3000 blankets on her?

-Oh shoot, what time is it??? I gotta go!!!


At the end of the day, Thank G-d this is what I worry about.

pinch me

My baby is now (kayin harah, poo poo poo!) 5 months old. Where did the time go? I am still stunned that I am now a mommy. My husband & I really lucked out on this precious cutie. I know that there are countless others out there whose hearts are broken by childlessness. I don't understand this curse at all. It's an injustice to have to yearn so deeply and be denied such a basic need - to procreate and love a child. Each child that is born in this world is truly a miracle. I look at my daughter's radiant face all the time and I dare to ponder her origins. At some point, G-d determined that this angel shall be placed into our arms, and breathed life into her. I am so thankful for her.

on another note.....

I am uncertain as to the future of this blog. I started it as a sounding board for mainly my dealings with infertility and the process of IVF. Since I have joined the world of motherhood, I feel somewhat in between worlds. My life is filled with the responsibilities of taking care of my little one, and no longer about yearning for her existence.

She is here.

But neither my husband nor I have forgotten how difficult it has been to get to this point. Blood, sweat and tears. Many, many tears. We are parents, but the isolating pain of being childless makes us appreciate our daughter even more. We are very protective of her. Perhaps more so than other first time parents. I doubt it, but one should not blame us if we are.

Perhaps I'll start a new blog or continue this one. I'm sure that the theme of Ten Li Koach will continue with me beyond my alter life with IVF.

Wishing all a Chag Sameach!!!!

My angel

There have been so many times in the past few months I have wanted to write to my blog. I can't believe it's true, but I am finally a mother. In April, my beautiful daughter graced this earth. It is truly amazing yo me that such a gorgeous creature started out as a tiny dot. I look at her and I struggle to take it all in. This baby, this constant companion of mine, is my daughter. I am her mom. May G-d bless her always.

scared

I'm scared.

I'm at a precipice.

A child is to be born.

Very soon.

G-d willing everything will go well.

Can I be a mother?

Am I ready?

What will life be like on the other side?

Can I handle it?

I am frightened.

I am overwhelmed.

A little baby, a little miracle, will (G-d willing) be soon placed in my hands.

I don't yet know what will be.

It's what we've wanted. It's what my heart has been crying for, for so long.

And now that it's almost here, I'm scared to open the door.

G-d give me strength.

panicking.........

The world is going faster than I can run.

In fact I can’t even run.

Not anymore.

Even if I wanted to, my body won’t let me.

My increasingly rotund abdomen is slowing me down to a halt.

My brain, however, is turbulent with anxiety, lists, confusion and disbelief.

There is a baby growing inside me.

The infertility depression has been traded for a huge slap of reality.

THERE.. IS... A... BABY... GROWING... INSIDE... ME....!

For so many years I have been dreaming of this.

This is what my husband & I have wanted.

For so many years I have cried for this.

And now that it’s occurring, I am scared to death.

Who is this creature?

Do I really deserve this?

Does G-d know it’s me he blessed?

Do I really qualify?

Am I really ready?

Please still this panic in me.

It’s all getting too real.

and sometimes, sometimes, the answer is yes......

It's been 5 months since I last blogged.

It's not that I haven't had anything to say.

It's just that I am speechless.

Befuddled.

More to the point, in denial.

For I am PREGNANT. 5 months strong.

Although this fact has been confirmed by a whirlwind of blood tests, ultrasounds, doppler instruments (what, is there a storm coming?), I still don't believe it.

We've been waiting almost 5 years for this. And now that it has, I can't process it.

Perhaps it's been the spicy meatballs that's been kicking me.

I never thought the IVF would work.

Never ever.

Is this really happening?

This is going to be (G-d willing, poo poo poo) one spoiled and loved child.

checking in....

I haven’t written in here for a very long time – over two months. I can’t think of a good reason other than feeling overwhelmed and not much to say. Sometimes I revert into myself, not wanting to socialize…and after a long day of work, the last thing I want to do is tax my brain more, reminding myself more about how I don’t have children. It’s become a way of life for me now – being the quirky-sometimes-witty gal who is mysteriously barren. Yes, I am different from you, the lucky, the blessed, the ones whom G-d granted children. There is a gap, sometimes a thousand miles wide, from your world to mine. I wish for just a moment, that I knew what it was like to hug a child, with the knowledge that THIS CHILD IS MINE. Sometimes I worry that I am so set in my not-yet-parenting ways that my fate IS to stay the way we are.

Okay enough of my whining….

What is on the forefront of my mind and many others is current state of our land Israel. I am extremely concerned about what lies ahead for Israel and for Jews around the world. As time goes by, the world is becoming increasingly polarized…and once again the Jews are alone…and we always have been alone….no matter how you slice it, I’m sure that Ms. Condolizza Rice, as pro-Israel as she is/or could be, will probably tell the Israel to use some restraint….we don’t want to upset the world for goodness sakes…Perhaps G-d is coming closer to us – he’s trying to lift the wool of denial from our eyes to show us what is important, to not turn from him anymore, to tell us we need to be good to each other….I hope whatever happens, that our generation will be worthy of having a happy ending….may Hashem bring protection, strength and peace to our loyal IDF soldiers!!!

Speaking of soldiers, I came across a way to give them a special thank you for all that they do – please see the link on how to surprise a solider with a gift of relaxation- they certainly do deserve it!

Here are a few more worthy charities to help out Israel:
Israel Emergency Fund - OU.org
N.A.V.A.H.
Meir Panim Soup Kitchens
Maccabee Institute
Magen David Adom

my (un)favorite rant

Sometimes I feel like I'm from another planet.

The childless planet.

I'm missing something.

I'm incomplete. I'm lost.

What is my purpose?

What will be?

I need your strength, G-d.

Our Matriarch Sarah lacked children most of her life.

I don't know how I can cope.

I want to feel good.

Will I feel the touch of my own child?

Where (are) is she/he (they)?

Please come out of hiding.

I'm ready to love you.

all or nothing...

Supposedly I like to write. I really do, once I am in the mood, or in the rush of an idea that flows really well. Otherwise, I don’t do it. I don’t like to feel like a failure, or admit I am as lost as I am. I feel so rusty. I have no clarity, in so many ways. I feel I have nothing interesting to write about anymore. Ok, so I don’t have any children. Boo Hoo. So much worse things could be happening to me. G-d Forbid, of course. I need something to awaken me. My soul has numbed. I’m tired of trying to inspire myself.

I can’t give up.

I'm trying....

lullabies unsung

I was surprised to find this website which shows a moving presentation on the emotional pain of infertility.  It makes those who have been through this feel a bit less alone, and helps others understand our world....

(By the way, there is music sung by Sarah McLachlan that plays during the presentation – if you are refraining from listening to music during the Omer, please turn off your speakers – the message is still pretty powerful)

IS it fixed yet?!?

I haven't posted in a while - one main reason is that I had been without internet access at my house since before Pesach. Yes, it is as painful as it sounds. Three Whole Weeks. Jeepers! And it was my own fault! *Somehow* my vacuum cleaner crashed into my precious computer in my frantic quest to clean for the holiday, and burnt out my NIC card. You know, the thingy that makes the computer tell the modem it's Internet Addict's Time. After many many hours & days of talking to some very sympathetic people in India, I gave in and hired a tech to come out to my house. Believe me, it's totally worth it. It's cheaper than therapy and just as therapeutic. I think my husband can call off the search party for his sweet & adorable wife. She's back, at least as long as this computer feels well. And I think I can give my broom back.

Adoption......

The winds are blowing in that direction.

It has been for some time.

Will I ever be a mom?

Will my husband be a dad?

What will be that be like?

Can a baby not born to me be mine?

So much unknown.

I want it.

I fear it.

So many thoughts.

We're tired of living without.

I want a child, someone

to nurture,

to teach, to enjoy, to love,

to guide, to be proud of.

Is this me?

Can I handle it?

Of course I can.

Of course we can.

I'm walking to you, child...where are you?

Please show me the way.....

Matisya-2

Ok, it's been a few weeks since I last posted, and I said I was going to continue writing on my review of the Matisyahu concert....but I've been pretty distracted lately with life, so, here, as Paul Harvey says, is the rest of the story....

When my husband & I were in the block-long line to get into the venue, we were checking out the others in line - how many others here were Yidden? I could only find an occassional kippah or Lubab talking on a cell phone/ As we got closer to the entrance, we were told by security that men & women would have to separate into different lines. We immediately thought, Is the Show THAT frum?!? Separate seating? How would that be possible??! How would I find my husband?? But silly us, it was for security purposes, so that we could be pat down by a same-sex security guard. Were they expecting such a rough crowd?

Anywho, we finally get inside and the place is packed with hip twentysomethings. The opening act, whose name escapes me and someone I had never heard of anyway, is singing a reggae inspired rock song - something in the Matis 'genre'. I scan the crowd. Hedondist Central. They dance and sway affectionately to the music. Are all these people here for Matis? Do they know he's Lubab? Do they know what that means? How did Matis pull this off?

I smell weed. It's official. It's a real concert.

The crowd becomes denser. Mentally and physically. I can't move without bumping into someone or someone bumping into me. The group of annoying beer drinking guys in front of me & my husband kept leaning over me to talk to their friends in back of us. Die. Yuppie. Scum.

Matis finally arrives. Black coat and all. The crowd is nuts over him. Many of the songs he does are on his new CD, Youth. It's just so surreal. During one of his songs he sings "Shema Yisroel Hashem Elokaynu Hashem Echad".....he says it a few times. And then, he covers his eyes with his hand and says it for real, saying Hashem's name. Whoa. These people just eat it up. They keep dancing! Then, during his most well-known song, A King without a Crown, there is a line that goes "I want Moshiach Now". He's got everyone singing "we want Moshiach now!".

To me, there is a lot more going on....why is this happening? Why is a a Lubavich ba'al teshuva who also happens to be a reggae singer, so successful in the mainstream? He is absolutely talented and a gifted singer/songwriter. But how on earth did he get past those record execs?? How??

There must be something deeper going on. Something beyond our control. Maybe G-d is telling us something. Judaism is good. Judaism is not the blithering idiot it is portrayed to be in Hollywood. We are much more than a red string and a bunch of oy veys. It's something real, and spiritual and everlasting. Perhaps his concerts and CDs do attract the masses, but if it causes a few off-the-derech Yidden to rediscover their Judaism, then it's worth it.

Matisya-WHO!?!

A strange phenomenon is occurring on the airwaves. An Orthodox (!) Jewish (!) Reggae (!) singer is emerging into the mainstream. All three of those adjectives are pretty incongruous with the hip MTV world. Not only is the man Orthodox, but a black hat, black long coat wearing Lubavich BT (baal teshuva) with a video on VH1! What the heck! He goes by the name of Matisyahu and I recently caught his show at my local entertainment venue. Truth be told, I don’t gravitate toward reggae music at all, but I gotta support my own! When I told my husband that Matisyahu was coming to town, he said “we’re going!”. Any chance for us to have a social life. Of course, when we tried to order tickets, we found out that it was completely SOLD OUT!! We were convinced that every Jew in town had the same idea. Oh well, another potato couch evening for us.

Luckily, friends of ours had connections and were able to get us tickets. Yay.

Now, I was looking forward to going to this concert not just to see a fellow Jew singing in the spotlight, but to also see who else would show up. I figured that it would be packed with yidden of every persuasion. I was excited. It would be like a shul function, just with a reggae twist. Yeah, right.

When the big night arrived, I got shpilkes just thinking about it. We were going to see Matisyahu, the man who was just on the Jimmy Kimmel show, the man who is crossing over from the frummie world to the Billboard charts. It just boggles the mind!

As my husband & I approached the block-long queue to get inside the show, we walked past scalpers...scalpers! Scalpers for an Orthodox Jewish event! What's next, hawking tickets for Yom Kippur (yo, man, I got two seats up in front, guaranteed for a clean slate, only $400).

We giggled (ok, I did the giggling, my husband was just stunned) when we spotted a few assorted black-hatted long-bearded men briskly walking about the place. We gave a silent nod to a few other visible frummies, as if to say, 'we all know why WE are here.'

We grinned when we saw Matisyahu's name in big letters on the marquee. He's made it. I don't know what IT is, but he made it.

More to report tomorrow...

underdogs

I recently went to a scholarship dinner for my alma mater, a very popular & increasingly prestigious Orthodox Jewish high school. I, on the other hand, was anything but popular & prestigious back in my teen years. Oy, my freshman year was just brutal. I entered that school knowing almost no one. I was surrounded by cliques of life long gum-chomping friends who knitted kippot for scads of nameless boys who were invariably giggled about between gum chomps. Like a scared monkey in a frightening psychological experiment, I clung to whomever would talk to me. I had maybe 4 friends that year, failed miserably (who fails enthusiastically??) in most of my classes and contemplated transferring to a public school every day (as if that wouldn’t be more brutal??!).

Somehow I survived that year, and came back as a sophmore who just didn’t give a sh*t. I wore chains. Fishnet gloves. Black hiking boots. Obscure band t-shirts. I dressed like a punk rocker. I wanted to exude a tough and unapproachable façade (think Judd Nelson’s character from the Breakfast Club but much cuter). My daily mantra was: Screw you all, you conformists, you idiots who blindly buy your clothes from The Gap. Stay on your side of the hall with the rest of the sheep and no one will get hurt.

But I hurt.

I smugly viewed everyone as a sad failure of society. It hid my pain of feeling alone. Of feeling different. I WAS different. I was shy, very creative, undisciplined in my studies, a child of divorce, and lacking any self-esteem. Many years later, I realized that many of the popular students that I idealized from afar were more screwed up than I was. This gives my 14 year old self no comfort. I wish I had more guidance and joy back then. Someone to show me the way. Those waters were treacherous.

As I sat at the scholarship banquet, enjoying my dinner with some of my alumni (the ones I liked back then J), a video presentation was shown of the fine work the school is doing. Many picture-perfect perky students excelling at math, science and Torah (oh yeah, that!) were interviewed. It’s a great marketing tool, and it even made me want to whip out my checkbook.

But I wanted to see the video they DIDN’T show. Pan the camera left, away from Ms. Teen USA, away from AP-Calculus broad, away from Benneton boy, and PUH-leeze far far away from the gum-chompers, and you will see my teen world. The underbelly. The have-potential-but-lacking-motivation-junior- college-bound crew. It may not bring in the heavy donors, but I’m rooting for them.

little lamb lost in the woods...

I feel a bit lost lately.

There are so many things that I want.

I want a baby.

I want a child that I can say, this is mine. This is my daughter or my son.

My wonderful husband & I are still in the pre-parenting world.

I don’t know what your world is like, the world of people who worry about tuition, doctor visits, homework, soccer tryouts (or in our case, would be little league or karate!), sleepovers, and assorted other worries/concerns.

I am scared that I will never know this.

I want to be able to give all of my love to a child, not a few hours of admiration from afar when we have guests with kids.

I have to keep my distance.

It’s so frustrating.

I know that parenting is not a piece of cake.

But I want my slice.

I am scared of it, but still yearning for it.

Please G-d, what will be?

I’m tired of having hobbies, distractions, depressions.

I fear the answer will be no.

Gemini is, is as Gemini does

While I don't believe in horoscopes, except the days that it says a large sum of money is in the stars for me, I am finding it hard not to whiff a bit of accuracy. I am a Gemini, so that means I am charming and fickle fickle fickle. One day I want to start knitting a sweater, and the next I have abandoned that for wanting to learn martial arts. Maybe it's my fate to be so ADD, but as long as I temper my excitement when latching on to something new, I usually land on solid ground. Something I've learned in my new age.

A few days ago, I professed my admiration for Michael Buble'. He's still the cat's meow, but I am learning of other modern jazz singers (NOT Neil Diamond!!) that I am starting to groove to:

Steve Tyrell (you've heard of him - he's on a lot of soundtracks).
Jane Monheit (a gorgeous voice)

Maybe I am getting older, or maybe I just now have more access to good music but I am starting to really appreciate jazz. This is not the name chick 20 years ago who professed her undying love to Duran Duran (who still rock, I must say).

Have a good Sunday.....

fight it

Last night my husband & I watched the movie, Cinderella Man. The DVD had been collecting dust for the past month on our bookshelf - it's one of DVDs we rented from the online Blockbuster mail order service. We'd been meaning to see it sooner but I was reluctant to see any movie about boxing. More sports. How fun can that be? But of course, like most things that are attacked by my vast sinister imagination, are not as bad as I imagined. I actually enjoyed it. It was honest and riveting. One more story of how sheer will and determination can make anyone succeed.

Lately I have been under an incredible amount of stress and my emotions have tumulted from rage to hope to bottomless depression. Thankfully, the lows don't last more than a day or so, but this past week was particularly scary for me. My husband & I started to really fight and bicker. I really began to question why G-d put me on this earth. What do I have to live for? After I die, what in my life will I be able to show that I DID something worthwhile? I have no children and I don't know if and when any will show up. I never realized that would be such a depressing thought. I am at the point in my life that I want more than material things. Sure, it’s nice to have interests, like enjoy music, go to the theatre, to travel to warmer climates, buy nice clothes to build up one’s self esteem, etc., but when you die, all of that stuff will not matter. I fear that I will not do anything that matters. I am taking steps to change that, and in the meantime, I just need to hang on.

While I was watching the Cinderella Man film, I took in all the times that the main character, played by Russell Crowe, was boxing his opponent, especially in the end. It was a very gruelling fight, one that could easily end his boxing career. But he kept on going, visualizing all the reasons to keep on going, all the things he was living for, all the things he was fighting against. That’s when it hit me. I NEED TO fight this depression. Hit it hard. Fight back. When it strikes me again, just tell it, GO AWAY! I don’t need YOU!!! Ok, maybe that works on Oprah-Land, but in my world, who knows. I’ve done women’s kickboxing in the past, so I could just imagine myself punching a target with the word ‘depression’ on it (nah, a picture of the face of the person who's driving me nuts will do). Heck, I’ll do that every day if I have to. I’m tired of feeling lousy. I just pray that G-d will help show me the way.

By the way, this is Day 29 of NO chocolate. Is it time to break out the Godiva? It's got antioxidants!

All that Jazz

I've discovered the wonderful singer, Michael Buble' - please just got to his website and listen to his dreamy music, which automatically plays the page loads ..... www.michaelbuble.com

Enjoy :)

my intervention

There’s a show on A & E cable television called Intervention, which is a documentary that follows the lives of various ‘end of the road’ addicts. These people’s problems run the gamut, from heroin to bulimia to alcoholism. For some reason, these addicts agree to be filmed on this show – I don’t know how they are conned into it. None of them know that at the end of this particular journey will be an intervention, attended by various friends, family members, and an addictions interventionist. It’s very dramatic, with lots of tears and sometimes joy, especially when we find out that months later, the addict has a happy recovery. I don’t have lots of faith with addicts – my impression is that they will relapse, again and again, especially ones who are cocaine/heroin addicts. It’s got such a strong hold on them that perhaps being institutionalized is the only way to stay away from it. Of course, I have absolutely no direct experience with this, and most, if not all, of my opinions on this subject come from what I see on tv. So perhaps my opinion doesn’t amount to much. I haven’t endured their pain, so I cannot relate.

But sometimes I am jealous of them. They have a place to go to work out their demons. They can escape the real world for 90 days and get love and support and work through their issues. I have to stay here, in my lonely and frustrating world and work it out myself. I am depleted. I don’t know what I have left. My job is frustrating. I haven’t slept well in several weeks. I am always stressed. Why can’t they have a half-way house for people who are just sick of life and responsibilities? If I were a famous actress, I could claim just exhaustion and check into the hospital of my choice and be taken care of. I don’t have the luxury of slowing down and taking a break. Sure, I can listen to my relaxation CDs and do something nice for myself, like splurge on yet another book. But it’s only a distraction. The pain is still there. I don’t know what I feel anymore. I am just really depleted. I don’t feel in control. I want to change my life, maybe change careers, do something different, but I don’t know what. I can’t seem to stick to anything, except to things that are safe. It’s time to break free. But I need someone to show me the way.