[da boca dos outros]

assim vai a vida
Daqui a umas horas saio para uma semana na França.
À mesa, combino com os miúdos como se vão organizar durante estes dias sem mim para lhes apanhar as pontas. Quando se dão conta de que o pai vai ter comigo a meio da semana, começam a trocar olhares cúmplices entre eles.
- Nem pensem em fazer uma facebook party!, digo eu, alarmada.
- Não te preocupes, mãe... (e riem gargalhadas velhacas.)
- Se fizerem aqui uma party, vão ser deserdados!
- Oh, não te preocupes: se fizermos aqui uma party, não vai haver nada para herdar!
A avó intervém na conversa:
- Se não se portam bem, fico aqui a fazer de baby-sitter.
Eles não se atrapalham:
- Vais ser a nossa party queen.

E assim vai a vida. Por estes dias algumas mulheres jovens têm andado a conversar em blogues sobre os motivos para ter filhos e eu, que em tempo útil nunca me lembrei de pensar nos porquês, estava capaz de responder que rir assim com eles é um bom motivo. Entre todos os outros que me hão-de ocorrer à medida que acontecem.
Daqui a umas horas saio para França, para os Alpes perto de Grenoble. Diz que lá o Outono também está magnífico. Levo a máquina fotográfica (sim, sabe-se lá que é que vai acontecer aqui em casa...) e talvez consiga mais uma resma de "quases".

por Helena 

Quem vê caras, não vê corações.

Diz um daqueles memes partilhados nos murais das redes sociais que a partilha da nossa história é uma obrigação. Que, quando nos assumimos e revelamos as nossas histórias, nos estamos a curar e a ajudar outros a fazê-lo. Ora, não sou assim tão ambiciosa.

Antes de mais, há muito tempo que deixei de pensar que tenho de me curar da minha história, ela é o que é, não vale a pena imaginar máquinas do tempo. nunca me vou curar dos meus arrependimentos, porque são isso mesmo: arrependimentos. Eu cometi erros e esses erros tiveram consequências nas vidas de outras pessoas. E na minha. Oh céus, e na minha vida.

Cipreste

Flickr / kjohansen

escrever, apagar, reescrever, apagar de novo

Tenho tantas coisas para dizer, mas falta saber escrever o que nunca vai estar resolvido. 

Falta saber escrever aquele que não é o momento brilhante da minha vida, com um preço pago por  mim e por terceiros, inocentes.




Cipreste

Adopção: sim, eu quero. sim, nós queremos.

traduzo uma passagem do meu primeiro texto sobre infertilidade

Coragem & Medo

Quanta coragem é necessária para se decidir ter um filho?

Porque é que alguém há-de ter um filho? Qual é o sentido de trazer uma criança a este mundo doido, violento e hostil? A sério, porque é que alguém há-de sequer considerar toda a maçada e riscos envolvidos para amar alguém como se doa, mais do que alguma vez pensou conseguir amar (ouvi dizer que é qualquer coisa assim), e saber que essa vai ser a dimensão mais importante da sua vida até ao dia da sua morte? A única resposta que consigo articular é: sim, eu quero ter um filho. 

Acrescento ao texto inicial:

Sim, eu quero ter dois filhos. 

Esperem, deixem-me fazer as contas: com o enteado, são três! Sim, eu quero ter três filhos!

the animal print shop

Cipreste

portanto. caímos. de novo.

OH INFERTILITY!

Um blog em língua inglesa, a convite de uma amiga de infância.

Vou deixando os posts à medida que saem.

SO. WE FELL. AGAIN.

That’s it: this treatment didn’t lead us to the so desired pregnancy.

I haven’t been very busy here at Oh Infertility! But do believe that almost everyday I think “Oh, I should write about that for OI!” but my state of mind has been so down I haven’t had the drive for anything other than automatic behaviour.

So, seeing that I am now willing to be myself again and do the things I left behind, I plan on coming here more often.

As a comeback I thought I should tell you about what happened regarding what these treatments are all about.

There are a few fertility treatments available depending on the case. I’m going under In Vitro Fertilization (IVF) treatments in a so-called Long Protocol.

Here is an example of a treatment schedule, it may not be exact as a timeline because it is, after all, an automatic calculator and there are particular issues to be decided case by case. If I select my last menstrual date before treatment, it gives me a very approximate schedule of what my last treatment was.

Once a case is assessed and there is a therapeutic indication for IVF, at the 21stday after the last menstrual period you start a daily injection of Gonadotropin-releasing hormone agonist (GnRH-A) and a daily intake of folic acid. You may read each step and a simple explanation of each moment here.

My last period before treatment was on April 11, which means I started GnRH-A injections on May 1. Also, I started a new inner battle of… all kinds of feelings you can imagine. Oh, boy! This was quite a roller-coaster ride.

Reading step-by-step on the IVF calculator doesn’t tell you that by each one you may feel like you are going under strict supervision, commission after commission, under custody of superpower you-know-who: mother nature.

At each commission you may pass or you may fail and fall off the ride. That’s it, there is no way of going fast forward, you have to go back to “start” without collecting… a baby.

I was very frightened of the result of this treatment because I had decided it was my last attempt to have a baby (let’s talk about this another day). Still, the first 10-13 days were as expected, even if you are nervous for the first couple of times, you get in the routine of the injections and that’s it for those days. I had embraced healthy habits like eating well, relaxing, taking a 40 minute walk home from work, etc.

But I wasn’t okay. No, I was not. Nor was the-best-guy-ever. We were in so much pain this time. All because I had decided this was it, the last treatment before accepting I would never be a mother.

What. A. Mistake.

I should know better than that: one never comes out with the sentence before the verdict.

At each step of the treatment there was always something (a blood result or uterus state, etc) that the doctor didn’t like, and then the biologist. It was never “all fine”. We would always leave the hospital with an uncertainty so much bigger than the one we already expected. Each time we would go back, we carried the belief that that would be the day of treatment interruption.

Oh, and the hormones, oh my. Poor the-best-guy-ever! I have to acknowledge he was really the-best-guy-ever and reserve the right not to say more so I don’t expose the silliness of my behaviour [blushes].

Both our state of mind and my physical response to treatment became a very bad emotional cocktail. Let’s say, I presume I didn’t become dehydrated from crying so much because I was really careful with water intake.

Suddenly we found ourselves with an Egg Retrieval date and there was a click. We talked so much during this treatment and by this time we decided we had to become happy for coming so far. And we were. I was afraid, but I truly believed this could be it.

I had five eggs which isn’t that bad because it’s only from one ovary and I’m 39, three of them weren’t good (this is bad) and two of them fertilized. OMG! Two of them fertilized! This is almost as good as knowing you are pregnant indeed. It’s actually beautiful, even though it was other people managing our gametes, they were *our gametes* and they became two embryos. Ours! From me and the-best-guy-ever! It was a nice moment. But it lasted so little. The second day I got a call from the biologist informing me that they weren’t developing as quickly as they should and if they didn’t catch up the next day it would mean that they weren’t good quality embryos. My poor babies. There they were, and there we were. Apart. And we got the call the next day.

So.

We fell.

Again.

And we dealt with it.

And I knew I wanted to undergo another treatment and I told the-best-guy-ever who agreed.

And here we are: willing to go on another ride because we didn’t feel “this was it”.

I promised myself that this time I won’t suffer from anticipation the way I did. With that intensity. And I’m believing it can be possible for me to become a mother.

We will be back on treatment by September so my body can get a little rest before then. That means we get to go on our planned August vacation.

Zambujeira beach

Cipreste

seis coisas ao calhas sobre mim... e a minha infertilidade

OH INFERTILITY!

Um blog em língua inglesa, a convite de uma amiga de infância.

Vou deixando os posts à medida que saem.

SIX RANDOM FACTS ABOUT ME... AND MY INFERTILITY

Just like Sandy, I also think these lists are always fun to do so here I go:

1) I have a recurring dream in which my loving mom denies me as her daughter (I believe Freud would relate this to my infertility).

2) I am not jealous of your pregnancy or motherhood, please share it with me.

3) I’m infertile for 15 years now. That’s many years of dreaming of names for possible future babies. It also proves to me that names have a lot to do with trends BUT I may say that I still like the first names I thought about.

4) Instead of it becoming easier to go through Mother’s Day, every year it’s becoming harder. During the last one I hardly contained my tears on the phone with my mom and then locked myself at home and had a “good” cry.

5) I don’t think I deserve a child more than you do but I do feel like slapping you if you tell me “you don’t know how lucky you are for not having kids” (even if it is a very desperate day for you, sorry but I won’t be empathic after those words).

6) I feel proud that I have the courage to go through fertility treatments (e.g. I know it’s not that much of a big deal but still… imagine weeks after weeks of injecting yourself daily).

I’d love to read six random things about you & your infertility.



Cipreste

não fugi

OH INFERTILITY!

Um blog em língua inglesa, a convite de uma amiga de infância.

Vou deixando os posts à medida que saem.

RUN AWAY

I have not.

Well, let’s say that in a certain way I did run, as one is just letting it be. It has been exactly four months since my IVF treatment was interrupted and I was back to the good ol’ pain of infertility in its whole shape of inability and helplessness.

So I let time go by (a little). I invented a few full-time hobbies.

Now it is time to stop and feel it all again. As soon as my next period is here my dearest is calling the nurse and I’m back to injecting my tummy. And I’m looking forward for it.

If it is true that we learn lessons, the one that I’m always acknowledging is that we do have to give things their time.

Four months ago I was devastated, both by my bio-reality and bad practice reality. I could hardly breathe without exercising not to cry. I had to struggle not to fall into my bed and stay there.

But I was not alone, I was not suffering alone.

There was my love and he was also suffering, this was something new for him. He has a son. He desires to have a child with me. He heard my stories about the past, but he had no idea how much it could hurt. And there I was aching twice, for us.

And time: Three months ago we had Christmas and all the availability it takes. Two months ago I started all the craziness around organizing a poetry festival in my city. It happened last weekend, from Thursday to Sunday. It was a great success and so on.

Now it is time for courage, again. And as soon as we made our call to the biologist today it all came back: the desire to keep all the healthy habits and that feeling of the heart filling with hope.

That’s what I meant about giving things their time. One month ago, if you had asked me about my treatments, I’d probably tell you I wasn’t very much into it, and was even considering a longer break. And I would have meant it.

We gave it time. And we are back.

Now starting a baby-step (like the irony of the expression?) process in which we may fail mid–way through our journey. But there is no other way to build our story. That’s what we believe in today, so that’s what we are doing today.

And now, a poem:


Respectful repetition

You draw overlapped rocks.
You animate infertility
On the drought of the metaphor’s tyranny.

From the portuguese

A respeitosa repetição

Desenhas pedras sobrepostas.
Na aridez da tirania da metáfora
Animas a infertilidade.

Paulo Azevedo



Cipreste

coragem & medo [uma amiga ~ um blog]

Mais uma experiência: um blog em língua inglesa, a convite de uma amiga de infância.
Irei deixando os posts à medida que saem.


  OH INFERTILITY!

Hello, my name is S. I’m married to the-best-guy-ever and have a stepson who is the-best-stepson-ever. I have a great life – my dream job, a loving family and friends, a lot of hobbies. But, I always have spare time for one more hobby. I have been fighting infertility for some time now. It seems that I want to stop having spare time. You know, I have my cake, but the cherry is missing. 

________________________

COURAGE & FEAR

How much courage does one need to decide to have a child?

Why should one have a baby? What’s the point in bringing a child to this crazy, violent, hostile world? Really, why should one even consider all the trouble around having the risk to love someone like it hurts, more than you ever thought you could bear(I heard it’s something like that), and know that this will be the most important dimension of your life ‘til the day you die? The only answer I am able to articulate is: Yes, I want a child.

I really like my life. Okay, it could better, but then again… it could always be better.

I’m married to this guy who is the-best-guy-ever. He not only reads poetry, he even writes poetry. Ha! And may I say it’s not junk poetry, it’s good stuff.

He loves me so.

And I love him so.

And we have a cat.

Yup, we have one of those. Of course I’d also love to have a dog, but it’s much more work than I am up to. Uh, wait, we have a point here: she’s not up to all the work around a dog but she’s considering having a kid? Oh boy.

Just kidding, we’re not going to compare having a child with having a pet. Different desires for different commitments. And there is nothing more to say about that.

So, I want to have a child. Since 1997. (You may now imagine one of those “established” signs.) Yes, since 1997. Or may I say since ever? I’m one of those freaks whom always thought was born to nurse babies, many babies. Here we are, the year of 2013, and I am still not a mother, no one calls me mom. Imagine: I could have a whole teenager!

My story: At first, I found out that my body was in trouble (you’re likely wondering ”why doesn’t she just adopt?”, let’s leave that for another day), then my life was in trouble, after that my head was in trouble and then years just went by (hiding fromthe fear).

Going back to the initial query, how much courage does one need to decide to have a child? And fast forward, how much courage does one need to have to go under treatment(s) to have a child? I think I’ll never be able to answer this question, or maybe the question is just wrong, I don’t know. I guess that the only possible explanation is the “sudden moment snap” theory (not my theory but I named it). So, the “sudden moment snap” theory consists of taking months (or even years) to try to decide on something. For example, you consult friends or even get professional guidance, you write down pros and cons lists and one day while you are putting away your groceries you suddenly snap and the decision is made. That’s it, no more reflections about it. The decision is made and you feel this is the point of no return.

It is. There is no going back to who you were before deciding you want to bring a child to this world. A child whom you are willing to love with all of your strength and forever fear for their welfare. Til-the-day-you-die.

There is actually no return from the day you decide that you want to have a child. From that day on, you want your body to change, you want to give birth no matter how much it frightens you, you want to hold one of those little creatures in your arms and think “oh, look at him/her, he/she is mine, from me, from my love with this wonderful man” and all those silly thoughts that make you feel at ease with the earth. You want it all, you are even willing to loose your sleep and (what the heck!) you are willing to let go of your “peace of mind” and “freedom”.

I guess that by now you’ve speculated why am I mentioning so many hypothetical moods and feelings about motherhood. You know… when you have 15 years to live in the “when/what if” stage, you collect many examples and wonder about them, sometimes you even think you may picture how it is. It’s only a wide range of imagery working in your brain together with your dreams. Still it does hurt in your chest, because no matter how much you dream (day & night) nor how much you do it all according to the books, you don’t get it.

You just don’t get it.

Maybe it is not written in the stars for you. You had forgotten that things don’t come easy for you. Why should a baby be something natural? Before you get to be presented with all those worries and dirty diapers, you have to pass a few tests. And still, Madame, we don’t guarantee you’ll get it.

That is infertility, ladies and gentlemen. That is what separates me from what seems like the rest of the world. Infertility is what causes me to live in non-stop-existentialism-town. I just don’t get it. I was supposed to have a little doubt, then decide, have some nice sex and see the red lines in the pregnancy test. But no, the universe has higher plans for me. I’m special so I’ve been chosen to go through this anguish. It is a prize, you know. I get to go to all of these different doctors and hospitals and go through all these tests. I even get to inject myself. I’m a society-tolerated junkie. I’m a piece of meat. I’m a leg-spreaded guinea pig. I know it’s not nice but at the least it is the truth. I’m impotent. I’m my mommy’s hurt little girl.

Life has denied me, and so many women and men, something life itself taught us would be ours naturally and I am afraid I don’t know how to put it into words for you to ever understand. I have tried so many times. I don’t know how to tell you what it is like to live with this absence. One thing I may say is that, even if you don’t know what to say to your infertile friend, your friendship and empathy are welcome.

And that is what I’ve been living with – Infertility and trying to keep things in perspective. With a little help from my friends, just like The Beatles.

If you recall, earlier I said I really like my life. And I do. I am very happy. I have my cake, but the cherry is missing. So, as much as it hurts, I smile and laugh everyday. And I don’t run away from my devilish fertile family and friends. I also find myself checking my friend’s baby website everyday and even commenting on things. And one day she asks me if I want to share my infertility experience with you. And I’m all like, “Hellooo, I’m your babyless friend and this is a baby website.”. And here I am, starting round two of InVitro Fertilization next month. Hello.


Cipreste

Cipreste

acreditar é a grande lição

por Chaparro, 2006



Cipreste

picada

que cada picada seja
o alimento do dia
 - seguinte - e que toda a noite
seja o florescimento
do nosso
sonho.




Chaparro

pode ser