tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3210130281290813242011-08-26T10:42:38.076-04:00Infertility and pregnancy loss from one man's perspective.CDEnoreply@blogger.comBlogger661100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-43812228144741339572011-04-05T21:20:00.000-04:002011-04-05T21:20:37.614-04:00

As most/all of you probably know from my wife's blog, she just recently got trolled by some grotty little specimen who thought it'd be funny to say things like "dead babies are funny" and "haha you killed your kids" and linked to a childfree forum in as well. Honestly, I'm surprised it took this long, and like I told S., "forget it, Jake - it's the Internet." But still, they said something mean

CDEnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-23607678344583053562011-04-05T20:41:00.000-04:002011-04-05T20:41:35.437-04:00

A few weeks ago, I was listening to a talk on counterfactual seeking - our tendency to look for alternatives to outcomes. We're wired as thinking creatures to make meaning, to place our life events in context, to think how things could have been worse in order to make ourselves feel better. "What if" can help keep us sane, as I've told classrooms full of college students. All throughout the talk

CDEnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-81615239808388238352010-09-19T17:55:00.000-04:002010-09-19T17:55:38.889-04:00

Fight Club might have had a point. Not the obvious one - that underground bare-knuckle fighting is awesome - because that's retarded machismo. But the idea that you can't know yourself unless you've been in a fight? There might be something there. Getting beaten is a direct, specific experience. It isn't another thing, it is what it is.  It is the most basic form of an intensely personal

CDEnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-67763492235849855572010-09-12T10:30:00.000-04:002010-09-12T10:30:36.406-04:00

My dreams are full of dread. This is the earliest I've been up on a Sunday in some time, and it's because despite the comfortable bed, the snoozing dog, the proximity of S, and the decongestant/cough suppressant that I take to reduce my snoring (mostly the cough suppressant part because that shit knocks me out), my eyes snapped open. I don't remember my dreams very well - I think last night

CDEnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-27205120095076151472010-08-15T22:47:00.001-04:002010-08-15T22:48:38.640-04:00

adjective - guided by truth, reason, justice, and fairness. adverb -  only or merely.The word "just" keeps coming up. It was one of those words that grated against us as we were trying to conceive.  "Just relax...it'll happen!"  "Just stop trying...you'll get pregnant in no time!" "Just put your trust in the Lord and it will be fine." "Just." As if it is simple, as if it is effortless.

CDEnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-11941837302968883202010-08-14T19:05:00.001-04:002010-08-14T19:20:12.110-04:00

S and I took a big step today. We got out of bed (before noon - that would have been a big step two years ago), did some housecleaning, and then did some more housecleaning. Specifically, we gathered up all of the leftover drugs and medical paraphernalia from our fertility treatments so we could get rid of it. Deep breath, the thing hanging over our head as we ate lunch. Want to do it but don't

CDEnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-56098635757638714222010-08-02T00:05:00.000-04:002010-08-02T00:05:30.755-04:00

So let's talk about privilege. It's one of the trickier things I have to teach - trying to get across the idea that privilege (in a social sense) doesn't mean getting extra favors or benefits. It means that the social system actually works for you the way it ostensibly works for everybody. Social privilege is a very subtle thing for the recipient, an invisible pair of hands opening doors,

CDEnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-89083571266699463122010-07-17T13:13:00.002-04:002010-07-17T13:15:46.137-04:00

"At first, [Killing Joke] was used to describe a level of despair…"* Man, losing your children and much of your hope for ever having children really does some fucked-up things to your sense of humor. It's a time-honored thing, developing a sense of black humor to cope with especially difficult jobs or horrible experiences. Cops, firefighters, E.R. doctors, soldiers, all tell jokes or make

CDEnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-5677225028768150282010-07-15T12:25:00.000-04:002010-07-15T12:25:33.980-04:00

So our internet connection at home has decided to just stop working for irregular intervals of time, and the only thing worse than that for me is having to call the almost apocalyptically incompetent customer service people at our cable company. I'm writing stuff offline until I have a chance to post it from my work connection. Now that I'm actually in a place to say stuff, I can't say it. Wish I

CDEnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-78516532363492265842010-06-24T23:21:00.000-04:002010-06-24T23:21:40.316-04:00

When S and I first started trying to conceive, she read various and sundry message forums for information, support, etc. I noticed a couple of things about most of them right away: They were damn near treacly in their optimism, and weren't very big on realism. I don't just mean that they weren't a good source of accurate information, I mean the prevailing discourse was this weird fairytale

CDEnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-52476553525809553972010-06-21T01:35:00.000-04:002010-06-21T01:35:05.193-04:00

Father's Day, and it's quiet and still here. S left me pretty much alone today, which was exactly what I wanted, or needed. Just some time to sit here and hurt. There have been a lot of tough conversations lately. S is doing much, much better than she was, which makes life a little bit easier. There's smiling and laughing again, and that's nice. Like healing always does, it happens slowly, when

CDEnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-43411246805415468802010-01-24T14:38:00.003-05:002010-01-24T15:55:30.626-05:00

"If at first you don't succeed/try try againStep up to the mic/and die againThis is the next lifetime and you want to battleYou must like reincarnation/or the smell of carnations"- "Raspberry Fields", Cannibal OxSo we've tried three cycles since we lost the boys. Each one hasn't worked. Not even close. And oddly enough, I don't feel worse for it. Maybe I'm just numb, inured to disappointment

CDEnoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-46896643905786451152010-01-03T16:26:00.002-05:002010-01-03T17:42:18.846-05:00

There's an old prison maxim - "Drink a lot of water, and walk slow." Drink a lot of water because it keeps your system flushed out, and walk slow because you're going nowhere fast.Being stuck at an airport always reminds me of this.Long story short - RE appointment scheduled earlier than we thought it would be, try to fly standby out of Seattle only to be told that all other flights are

CDEnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-567226218189980712009-11-28T23:02:00.002-05:002009-11-29T00:03:25.691-05:00

It's all about circles right now.I'm giving a lecture on issues around treating mental illness -(pacing around the auditorium - I can't stand still when I teach)"Let's say you have paranoid schizophrenia, and as long as you take your meds, you're fine. But when you feel fine, you think 'I'm doing fine, I don't need to be on the meds.' So you go off your meds, at which point the delusions and

CDEnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-52393656431546006282009-10-26T20:15:00.002-04:002009-10-26T20:18:42.735-04:00

Walking the dog tonight, while S. is at class, I pass two little boys playing on Big Wheels. One of them says hello, I say hello back.He asks me if I'm Dennis the Menace. I tell him no. Then I ask him if he's Dennis the Menace. This appears to stump him.Then he asks me "are you the Daddy of...""No. I'm nobody's Daddy."No, it's not true. I hold my boys next to my heart. But at the end of the day,

CDEnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-17780040166140422992009-06-21T11:26:00.001-04:002009-06-21T11:27:44.476-04:00

For Jacob Rhys and Joshua Spenser, in loving memory on Father's Day.I miss you boys. I miss who you would have been and who you would have become.All I could give you was an end to suffering.

CDEnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-40650424828959758532009-06-06T21:50:00.003-04:002009-06-07T13:19:19.845-04:00

First, thank you for all of the happy birthday wishes. S. and I had a very nice day together, and like I told her, the best gift I could get was getting back a little bit more of the woman I love. We had a nice lunch at a favorite diner, went to go see "Land of the Lost" (wasn't one of Will Ferrell's best - closer to "Blades of Glory" than "Anchorman"), and did a little shopping. I picked up a

CDEnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-68440246314230794622009-05-26T11:33:00.002-04:002009-05-26T11:35:13.748-04:00

CDE: "Jesus, why are you so snappy today? You're like 'hisssss, grrrrr.'"S.: "What's today?"CDE:"Oh, yeah. I keep forgetting."S: "So yeah, that."(Curtain.)

CDEnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-41198895682704620462009-05-26T11:15:00.002-04:002009-05-26T11:31:39.994-04:00

Thank you for the words of support and concern for S. For those of you who follow her blog (much easier, since she updates with orders of magnitude more regularly than I), I know she's thinking about how to write about it, and she appreciates it.As near as we can tell, she's fine. She was fine all weekend, she's fine today, and even though her doctor hasn't cleared her to drive yet (sort of hard

CDEnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-6240777848301054422009-05-25T12:26:00.002-04:002009-05-25T12:54:08.800-04:00

Things have been going pretty well for us lately. Like I said, S. is doing much better, and we were looking forward to a nice, quiet Memorial Day weekend. I got some work done at school on Wednesday and Thursday, didn't make it in on Friday because S. and I had a much-needed air-clearing talk about me and my feelings and her and her feelings and our relationship. One of the things I love about

CDEnoreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-47556889435910909762009-05-18T16:00:00.003-04:002009-05-18T17:04:20.995-04:00

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about rage.I've finished my first year as an honest-to-goodness professor, and S. is doing a lot better. Not perfect by any means, but better. Between effective meds, our wonderful new dog, and some much-needed validation and vindication, she's much much closer to the woman she was before we lost our sons. I'm spending a lot less time and energy taking care of her

CDEnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-65188192992693933712008-12-25T16:17:00.002-05:002008-12-25T16:57:32.491-05:00

It's been a rough few months.My absence from this blog was about 40% deliberate. Like many of you, sometimes I need a vacation from dead baby land. I haven't been writing, I haven't been reading. So much grief, both for me and for others. Compassion fatigue. I can only give so much. It's important, but caring takes energy, effort, and lately I've been very tired.The other 60% have been the

CDEnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-60004272757533404092008-09-22T18:06:00.009-04:002008-09-22T18:32:40.837-04:00

So I get this email late last week. Well wait. Just to provide some context:* If a class is full, or a student hasn't fulfilled all of the prerequisites for a class, or if the registration dates for the class have passed, then the only way a student may enroll in a class is to fill out what's called a force-add slip, which authorizes the registrar to add students above the maximum enrollment,

CDEnoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-44131782443095803992008-09-22T14:54:00.003-04:002008-09-22T15:21:15.165-04:00

I've finally reached that point in the child development class that I'm teaching where I've gotten to talk about fun things like infertility, birth complications, stillbirth, etc. Normally when I prepare the lectures for this class, I follow the book pretty closely, mostly because this is a class outside of my area of specialization. I did notice, however, that when I wrote the section on

CDEnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-27025079495034111612008-09-08T16:33:00.004-04:002008-09-09T10:40:22.487-04:00

I want to strangle my computer today.I just need to write a quiz. A 20-minute quiz to give to about 125 students. A class which is less a class and more a huge organism over which I exert control, rather than teach. I just want to write a quiz for them, and the software I use to write tests finally has to be uninstalled and reinstalled after a complete shutdown of my office computer. I am

CDEnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-40461912308701129402008-08-25T14:58:00.003-04:002008-09-02T17:46:31.786-04:00

The great thing about the summer was that for the most part I didn't have to deal with stuff with which I didn't want to deal. What this ended up being was less a vacation or quiet period and more being lulled into a false sense of security.Our department had a reception for all of the graduates (which, woo-hoo! I is a professor now!) on Friday night, and although I knew children would be there

CDEnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-51452986973830813792008-07-29T15:42:00.002-04:002008-07-29T17:51:19.904-04:00

Goddamnit, I just can't get clear of this whole fucking grieving thing.The six-month anniversary of the boys' death hit me about as hard as it hit S., but I didn't really pay attention to it because it hit me in a different way. I never really experienced outpourings of grief or bolt-from-the-blue surges of emotion. Everything just got turned down to a dull roar, both the good and the bad. I

CDEnoreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-41853761874745880232008-06-25T16:44:00.004-04:002008-06-25T17:14:55.407-04:00

A few nights ago, I was watching a new episode of Intervention, or as S calls it, "our weekly dose of schadenfreude." She's hasn't watched it as much since we lost the boys, probably because her threshold for tragedy in general has gotten a lot lower. For obvious reasons. I still like watching it, or at least I like it when it ends well. If you haven't seen it, it's as raw and unflinching a

CDEnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-64232900455197449852008-06-23T17:29:00.002-04:002008-06-23T17:49:57.978-04:00

I'm still thinking about all of this stuff surrounding teaching a class on child development. It's one of my favorite parts of teaching Introduction to Psychology, and I'm usually pretty good about leaving my personal life stuff out of the classroom - as in, what's bothering me right now - but it does bring up something else.I often use anecdotes from my life when I teach, to illustrate examples.

CDEnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-32840569877657658692008-06-23T16:43:00.005-04:002008-06-23T17:34:37.834-04:00

Some comments on my previous teachable moments post got me to thinking, and wanting to respond, and wanting to make corrections, and think some more and yammer some more...I don't take it personally or get angry that men's grief is represented the way it is in textbooks, for a couple of reasons. First, textbooks are, in my experience, rarely the best way to obtain the newest information on a

CDEnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-21636078285808058062008-06-22T13:09:00.003-04:002008-06-22T13:14:03.295-04:00

If you didn't already know, Antigone is going through some extremely serious shit right now. Make a point to go over there and give her some support, because she certainly needs it.

CDEnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-89233841897119391112008-06-16T16:57:00.006-04:002008-06-16T17:58:17.448-04:00

You've probably heard the term "teachable moment" before. I usually hear it used in relation to real-life events, and how they serve as excellent opportunities to illustrate theoretical concepts. They are pedagogical tools. (Some would argue that I'm a pedagogical tool, but my officemate has gone home for the day.) Make the connection between life and a larger point.I've been thinking about

CDEnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-75566049767451272512008-06-16T14:37:00.004-04:002008-06-16T16:55:54.744-04:00

I am in a very weird place right now. Not physically - I'm in my office at school, surrounded on two sides by towering stacks of paper, the result of not engaging in my regular between-semester office cleaning. I'm in a weird place emotionally.Part of it is my recent spate of good fortune. In a very short span of time, I found out I'd been hired in a visiting faculty position for next year (

CDEnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-46756075458363309962008-06-13T23:35:00.002-04:002008-06-14T00:19:00.817-04:00

If I didn't know any better, I'd think that my wonderful wife just tagged me on a meme. Seeing as how my ability to write for this blog seems to have been disrupted by a bizarre streak of good fortune, this is probably a good way to get back in the game...1. What were you doing 10 years ago?I was 28 years old, and probably working two jobs (this was vacation for me - during the rest of the year,

CDEnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-46472024619073480312008-06-01T10:31:00.003-04:002008-06-01T11:24:26.461-04:00

Sorry for the protracted absence - the last three weeks or so have been a little insane, with me trying to finish my dissertation in enough time to defend it and get revisions done before my adviser's due to give birth (babies everywhere). I got it turned in to my committee on the 29th, and found out the day before that I'd been recommended for an appointment as a visiting assistant professor at

CDEnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-78863742603540566762008-06-01T09:30:00.003-04:002008-06-01T10:19:22.087-04:00

Pardon me if this seems a little loopy. I haven't yet picked up my delightful other half's pill-blogging, but I've been taking Claritin-D for my allergies and although it does clear my sinuses and cut down on my snoring, it also tends to knock me the hell out. I can feel it lingering in my system, like a fuzzy coating on my brain.(One quick digression - I never realized how expensive Claritin was

CDEnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-65065810480366344872008-05-19T16:22:00.007-04:002008-05-31T10:06:26.399-04:00

Yes, that's an exponent in the subject line, because that's how I roll. Nerdy.So awhile back, my beloved S posted her belated marriage vows to me on our wedding anniversary. Pretty much what she said was true (about the circumstances - her appraisal of me? I dunno. I try), and it made me choke up a little to read them. I mean, I know she loves me, and I know she knows I love her. And she knows

CDEnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-37052237233178265322008-05-15T13:24:00.004-04:002008-05-15T16:47:25.593-04:00

Awhile back, Tash pointed out that along with the inescapable portrayals of mothers and babies in the media comes a tendency to portray those who have lost children as crazy or otherwise permanently damaged. Apparently, Glenn Close's character on Damages lost a child (and it's not like Close has ever played someone driven mad by loss or rejection before), and although I've never watched the show

CDEnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-33978792817419962982008-05-06T10:51:00.005-04:002008-05-06T11:55:26.662-04:00

This comes courtesy of Glow In The Woods - go check it out.1) In a word, how would you characterize yourself before your loss, and then after?Before: Full of joy and anticipation.After: Empty and hard.2) How do you feel around pregnant women?Generally okay. It's just when people start talking about their pregnancies and/or children and all of the wonderful (and not-wonderful) stuff that comes

CDEnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-81360115701329564682008-05-03T20:40:00.003-04:002008-05-03T21:52:49.173-04:00

One of the unexpected side effects of the grief S and I feel is a renewed appreciation for all the crappy, horrible, guilty-pleasure snacks we'd normally enjoy in moderation. We have become connoisseurs of junk food. Our tortilla-chip-and-queso capacity will be the stuff of Viking legend. Bards will sing sagas for our ability to put Ruffles and ranch dip away.To that end, over our last few trips

CDEnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-48697321731796280192008-05-02T16:06:00.003-04:002008-05-03T20:27:41.653-04:00

I'm beginning to develop kind of a weird relationship with my grief. It's a part of me - settled in and camped out for the duration - but it's also the product of outside events, of the death of my sons. So it's both part of me and something that happened to me. This isn't the weird part, this is just bullshit intellectualizing of something really painful and exhausting. The weird part is that I

CDEnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-6468266176483523442008-04-30T15:01:00.003-04:002008-04-30T15:43:48.044-04:00

It's not just my immediate surroundings that hammer me with reminders of what S and I don't have, it's also the culture. It's television, movies, magazines. The singular of "media" is "medium," meaning "one of the means or channels of general communication, information, or entertainment in society, as newspapers, radio, or television" or "an intervening agency, means, or instrument by which

CDEnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-1456294927241781072008-04-25T13:45:00.004-04:002008-04-25T15:47:02.708-04:00

I am supposed to be productive today, but it's springtime.There's sun shining outside, singing birds, it's warm, it's Friday. End of the week. Relief in sight. Two days of not needing to be nice or patient or strong or any of that crap. So I'm having trouble being productive. I don't have any meetings today (rare for a Friday) and the only thing keeping me here is the thought of picking up some

CDEnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-92209476394614418102008-04-21T18:25:00.004-04:002008-04-25T15:47:20.397-04:00

Inspired by this commercial...Well, not really. Sort of.I am surrounded by pregnancy and children at school. One of our good friends - someone who has been right there as we struggled with infertility, with culture shock, with finding community - is pregnant. She's been very sensitive, but it's still there. My adviser is pregnant, and she and I have a strained-at-best relationship to begin with,

CDEnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-39575467564855962552008-04-15T20:51:00.002-04:002008-04-15T21:22:14.527-04:00

I am a huge nerd.Well, not huge, though I've definitely put on weight.But I'm a huge nerd.Walking home the other day, I was reminded of a recent episode of Doctor Who, entitled "Blink." The antagonists of the episode are creatures called the Weeping Angels, ancient predators who only exist when they are not being observed. Otherwise, they appear to be ordinary stone statues.It's a great episode -

CDEnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-17089723680989669412008-04-12T09:11:00.003-04:002008-04-25T15:47:48.783-04:00

I totally understand the reluctance to say "dead baby" out loud - I mean, it's one of the most horrible things you can think of, whether you've suffered this loss or not. I can't say it to anyone but S. The thought of saying it to anyone but her is incomprehensible to me. And in a way, I feel like saying it and hearing it is something that only belongs to us - it isn't for anyone else, because

CDEnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-1921447172344897232008-04-06T21:19:00.003-04:002008-04-06T23:23:52.278-04:00

In the before-time, in the long, long-ago, when we first started trying to conceive, S made a point of visiting a number of different fertility-related message boards, essentially trying to build some community to help deal with our difficulties getting pregnant. Inevitably, I found myself looking at some of these boards over her shoulder, and it was here that I became familiar with the term "DH

CDEnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-8423611168080662882008-04-06T10:58:00.004-04:002008-04-06T11:28:58.699-04:00

S and I have developed a shorthand for how we're feeling, or why we do (or don't do) certain mundane things. It took us a little while, but at some point in the last three months, we were able to actually say out loud that our children were dead. That Jacob and Joshua were dead. The act of saying "dead children" or "dead babies" was, at first almost violent, like using a really offensive or

CDEnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-43013272563070494092008-04-02T10:31:00.002-04:002008-04-02T13:54:48.119-04:00

Everyone has a different way of talking about their grief. Which makes sense, since everyone's experience of grief is unique, the source of the grief is unique, and others' response to our grief is unique. But at the end of the day, it all sucks. No doubt about that.My grief is something that's always there, squatting someplace in the middle of my chest. I used to think in terms of trying to

CDEnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-25337685459220323932008-03-31T17:42:00.007-04:002008-04-01T12:00:54.116-04:00

I keep telling myself I'm not going to do this, I'm not gonna, nope, nope, nope...I am not gonna go into some long, pedantic holding-forth on theories of gender. I study this shit, I do research on this shit, I can bore a motherfucker at forty paces with this shit. Just ask S. Go over to her blog right now, I bet she's nodding her head.And yet.So I think men do sort of get the short end of the

CDEnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-37089161996323392832008-03-29T12:18:00.005-04:002008-03-29T12:57:04.527-04:00

I've gotten so much great support from the post on how others respond to me versus my wife that I want to elaborate a little if I can.I don't think my immediate situation is entirely due to my gender. Part of it has to do with the difference between my doctoral program and S's. S is in an education-related program, and they tend to be a little more touchy-feely over there anyway. My program is a

CDEnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-17780290836692299722008-03-29T11:57:00.002-04:002008-03-29T12:18:32.310-04:00

I'm amazed by the compassion and reception this thing of mine has gotten. It's maybe even a little overwhelming, though not in a bad way. I guess, over the course of my life, I've gotten so used to working through things pretty much on my own, that having all of this is a brand new experience. I've said it before, but I'll say it again: I appreciate all of your comments and words of support, and

CDEnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-505657026824543912008-03-24T21:51:00.002-04:002008-03-24T22:44:11.294-04:00

Part of it is being a man.The masculine gender role in Western culture is defined in part by agency - the ability to provide, to take action. The feminine gender role is defined in part by communion - the ability to connect, nurture, support. All kinds of traits and acceptable/unacceptable behaviors stem from this distinction. Expectations about appropriate responses to an event stem from this

CDEnoreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-44241096321098440362008-03-22T20:45:00.002-04:002008-03-22T20:49:09.970-04:00

I can still remember one of the first things S did that really endeared her to me.When we first started dating, I was in a crappy job that I didn't like. Inevitably, our evenings together would start with me venting for about ten or fifteen minutes about my stupid job. After one particularly firebreathing rant, she looked at me with an amused expression and said..."You don't scare me."And, just,

CDEnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-38908173318877446792008-03-22T11:22:00.004-04:002008-03-22T20:49:36.019-04:00

Antigone asked a good question in response to a previous post..."What if there's no sense to be made?"I think it depends on what's meant by "making sense."I'm sure we've all heard it from well-meaning people: "Everything happens for a reason." The last thing I want to think about is what possible reason there could be for the death of my sons. I mean, there's the cause of death, but I know that's

CDEnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-50737866668802261542008-03-21T18:16:00.003-04:002008-03-22T20:49:59.102-04:00

In the process of grieving our lost sons, a lot of things about how we live our life have sort of gone ignored. Lots of things that held over from before, the artifacts of a difficult pregnancy, stuck around because we were/are too busy being in shock to do anything about it. What I've found, over the last few weeks, is that trying to restore a certain amount of normalcy is good for me, even

CDEnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-18918056715390201852008-03-20T12:34:00.003-04:002008-03-20T14:06:41.501-04:00

So having spilled a long, detailed, sequentially-if-not-chronologically accurate account of the loss of my sons all over the first part of this thing of mine (I never liked the word "blog" - to me, "blogging" sounds like what you do after you have too many beers and any number of cheap burritos), I should probably talk a little more about who I am and where I'm coming from. The absolute basics

CDEnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-9893589599441845672008-03-20T12:18:00.003-04:002008-03-20T12:31:54.770-04:00

Okay, for those of you who'd like a little background and don't want to wade through 6 incredibly long posts (and honestly, I don't blame you if you don't), here's the nutshell version:1) My wife and I found out we were infertile the hard way a little over two years ago.2) We did about 9 IUI cycles over those two years - the first 8 netted us three chemical pregnancies and not much else.3) The

CDEnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-63511016076289395262008-03-18T13:53:00.003-04:002008-03-20T12:34:36.525-04:00

I'm pretty sure I slept well until past noon after the delivery, and I really didn't care that I did. Somewhere along the way, I found myself past caring about a lot of things. I brushed my teeth, but that was about it. I was already overdue for a haircut and a shave when everything started, and by the time the delivery happened I was starting to get sort of a Jesus/Manson thing going on. I

CDEnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-49363376721827576322008-03-17T23:14:00.003-04:002008-03-20T12:34:13.919-04:00

Our regular OB gets into town around this time. He opens up the office on New Year's Day to examine S - yet another ultrasound. His professional opinion is that S isn't retaining enough fluid to really help the baby grow - she's been leaking steadily the whole time. He thinks that at this point, we're just waiting for infection to set in. So we make arrangements. This means scheduling an

CDEnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-5811475597867126972008-03-17T20:52:00.005-04:002008-03-20T12:33:58.225-04:00

So we get back home and settle in. S's father, sister, and brother-in-law are at a nearby hotel, but there's at least one of them with us all the time. On some level, I think we're still in shock. Something about being in hospitals makes it hard to keep track of time. It's a little disorienting. We come home, and I walk S upstairs to the bedroom and get her tucked in. No moving more than she has

CDEnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-575632686508120112008-03-16T00:07:00.002-04:002008-03-16T00:18:56.614-04:00

Thank you all for the supportive comments and positive feedback. I want to respond, but it may take me a little bit. Writing out the history of what happened to S and myself is a little like running a marathon. It's long, arduous, and every post leaves me exhausted. It won't always be like this, and not everything I write will be as long as these posts have been, but I feel like I need to have

CDEnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-46176214020396905702008-03-15T12:00:00.003-04:002008-03-20T12:33:38.153-04:00

I came back to the hospital the next morning, and they hooked S up to a fetal heart monitor - which was only finding one heartbeat. I tried not to let it bother me too much, partially because I have a tendency to get really anxious really quickly, a tendency I've worked for many years to control. Also, S was going to get upset enough for both of us, I knew that. So I tried to remain optimistic -

CDEnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-51647606199919733092008-03-14T11:15:00.004-04:002008-03-20T12:33:04.221-04:00

Leading up to the holidays, all of the disruptions we'd experienced were becoming almost routine. S uses the phrase "the new normal", and I think this is about the time I started to understand what that means. It was perfectly routine for S to be: a) throwing up, b) feeling like she had to throw up, or c) completely without appetite because she'd just finished throwing up. We had cans of Ensure

CDEnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-82377168933203721692008-03-13T18:10:00.004-04:002008-03-20T12:32:31.927-04:00

Well, how did I get here?It all started in earnest about two years ago. My wife (let's call her S so I don't have to keep typing "my wife" over and over again) and I are in two different doctoral programs at the same university. She's a couple of years behind me, and in late 2005, we'd finally gotten to a place in our lives (financially, emotionally, and otherwise) where we could actually

CDEnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-321013028129081324.post-15961568684816988692008-03-11T15:40:00.007-04:002008-03-13T23:54:38.496-04:00

And you may find yourself living in a shotgun shack And you may find yourself in another part of the worldAnd you may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile And you may find yourself in a beautiful house With a beautiful wife And you may ask yourself-well...how did I get here?In 2003, my wife and I moved from the East Coast to a small town in the Midwest so that I could enter a PhD

CDEnoreply@blogger.com3