2015 Blog Review

This is post number 33 for 2015. I hoped to post 4 posts per month, 48 for the year. It's the third most in a year for this blog and readership is pretty steady. Thanks for tuning in, y'all.

My third most visited post for the year is "The End of Our Fertility Journey." It summarizes the long journey David and I took to complete our family with lots of links to previous posts I made along the way. I hope couples struggling with fertility might stumble upon this blog and know that their struggle is one many couples share and that wherever they are on this journey, the only way out is through.

My second most popular post is part of my 12 Days of Blog Posts: "Two Kid Life." I introduce my 12 Days idea and describe the gratitude David and I try to feel as we live out our two-kid dream.

My most visited blog this year and of all time is "Fasting Again..." I've written a great deal about public education and the attacks from the corporate education reform movement. This post summarizes my one-day fast to show support for a school in Chicago. I'm not sure if it is the labels I posted or the desire for people to understand the subtext behind struggles for schools like the one going on at Dyett, but over 3,000 people visited this post, way more than any other I've posted.

There were three other posts that managed over two-hundred visits, so I think I'll link to them as well.  I think they do show that my blog is a little bit all over the place. After all, these are random bits.

"Remembering To Kill A Mockingbird" about teaching, reread, and writing about this classic American novel.

"Back to the Grind" about heading back to work after maternity leave.

"Culmination Address for the Class of 2015" about the end of my journey this past school year.

So, with that, 2015 is in the books. See you in 2016!

The End of Our Fertility Journey

The crazy thing about fertility/infertility, is that when you're dealing with it, it is both all-consuming and invisible. It colors everything, but it's translucent. It is everywhere and nowhere.

When David and I first tried to start a family, I over-shared on this blog (which had only a handful of readers at the time). It's been an eight-year journey and now that it's come to a conclusion, I can look back and reflect, but it's impossible to capture the intensity of being in it. There was the worry that we would never have kids like we envisioned, that I was sterile, that he was sterile, that we waited too long in life, or waited too long in this cycle, that we were being selfish wanting kids of our own with so many kids in the world needing loving homes. There were just so many long-term doubts and worries. But then there was the hope, "Maybe we're pregnant this time!" tempered with "Don't get your hopes up" and "Things happen when they are supposed to" and "We can adopt or foster."

I wrote about the journey from inside and now that I'm on the outside, and even though I can't quite capture the chaotic confusion that is trying-to-get-pregnant, the links to previous blogs capture some of it. I'm exploring the journey more in my work in progress, Waiting for the Other Shoe to Drop, so there is more to come. But for now, this is my journey, reflected on from the other side but with links to posts from when I was in it.

2008
David and I had been married six years when we decide we're ready to start our family and stop using birth control.

2009
A year later we still aren't pregnant, and although we wonder if parenthood is for us, we look for help. I start the process with my healthcare

provider, but about halfway through their protocol (blood work, exams) the reality of the financial expense makes us decide to change health plans. This change means treatment will be more affordable, but it also means another round of blood work, exams, and this time a dye test that leaves me ill for days.

2011
That summer, we finally start our first cycle with fertility meds and artificial insemination. Even though my body doesn't really respond to the meds, we get lucky and are pregnant with our daughter Kiara.

2013
We always imagined a family of four, so David and I decide to try again. We head back to the same doctor hoping to get the same results. Healthcare coverage changes make it more expensive, but we get to avoid all of the blood work, exams, and the dye test. On the first round, I respond well to the meds and there are several eggs ready for insemination. But while I'm on vacation in Oregon, I start my period. There's still time that summer for one more cycle, but that round doesn't take either. With our pockets considerably lighter, we wonder if baby number two will ever happen.

2014
We decide not to try fertility treatments again, but hope to get lucky and in the summer of 2014, I'm late. I tracked my cycle and felt like we might have timed things right. I'm up in Portland and there is a positive test. As the pregnancy progresses, we know this baby is it for us. We discuss permanent birth control options and decide to get my tubes tied during my scheduled c-section. I come to the slow realization that our fertility journey is over. It was not short or easy, but it was uniquely ours. I'm so glad it's over. So, for anyone who is still on this ride, I wish you only the best. It can be a complicated, expensive, and emotional journey, but it is yours alone and someday you too will be on the other side.

Summer Stock

Kiara contemplates summer and fall. 

Summer begins that first week of June with a farewell.

The school year comes to an abrupt end when a phone call from my sister indicates things are not going well. I need to get home. I leave my classroom a mess. There is no last day of school, no yearbook signings, no hugs from students. There is no gleeful send-off into summer.

There are ten days in Portland. Every day is trips to the hospital, hours in a critical care unit watching machines that track each heartbeat, each breath.

There are breakfasts with Dad, lunches with my brothers and sister. There are lonely trips for coffee or ice cream with the hipsters of Portland.

There is a positive pregnancy test that feels like some sort of trick life is playing on my forty-year-old body.

Things with Mom get worse, or they just don't get better. We must think about what Mom would want. Then we must advocate for her. There are decisions to make, and every conversation is a challenge. There is prayer and song, tears and silence.

We finally let go, and our family of six is brought to five.

On Summer Solstice, the longest day of the year, we hold Mom's Memorial. There is family and friends, tears and laughter. There are long moments when grief and loss overwhelm. There are
stretches of nothing.

I come home to LA and Mom is there. She is with me when I wake up Kiara in the morning. She is with me every time I sit down to the page. She is with me at the beach and in the car. She is here.

There is rain in LA this summer, but mostly beautiful days of sunshine.

The pregnancy that once felt like a trick has been confirmed and the doctor calls it a miracle. David and I watch this new life squirm on a grainy, black-and-white screen with awe.

I head back to work even though summer still shines strong and will for another couple of months. I will continue to soak in the sun, and breath in the beach air. I will cling to the memory of easy summer days.

I will hold onto summer until fall makes me forget.

2013 Year in Review

This picture has nothing to do with this post. It's just a funny shot of
Kiara reading Goodnight Bush and making a face about Dick Cheney.

Well, 2013 has been my most prolific year as a blogger with this being my 51st post. The 52 poems project definitely kept me going. I loved returning to a few of my favorite poets: Robert Frost, Pablo Neruda, and Lucille Clifton, but I also discovered how much I love other poets like Seamus Heaney, Richard Blanco, and Naomi Shihab Nye. My poetry posts were not so widely read, though. I don't know how much these stats really tell me. I mean, as of now, my Dukes of Hazzard excerpt is my all-time most read which just shows the power of the label in a search engine. Apparently more people search for 80s tv shows than for poems about forgetting and remembering life.

Still, these were the three posts which got the most hits in 2013. Thanks for reading along and here's to another year of reading, writing, blogging, and living.

Scout!

The third most visited post was titled Conception after a poem in Reflections of Motherhood. I decided to share this after we decided to try to grow our family again. No luck yet, but we're still hopeful!

The next most-read post was about the new year's wishes my students made and some wishes of my own. It surprises me that this was so widely read, but I'm glad for it and I do plan on writing more about my teaching and the state of public education this coming year.

But for 2013, the posts which resonated most was Love that Dog about our family's decision to re-home our dog. I still tear up reading it and still miss Scout. It was tough not hanging her stocking this holiday season and if anyone is in need of a dog stocking, let me know.

See you in 2014!

52 Poems: Week 22 Conception

At Beckie and Gearin's nuptials,
you were there with Gray and Lucas.

If you have been on this ride with us for a while, you know the journey to Kiara started way back in 2009. I wrote a post, Fertile Soil, about the miscarriage which had me worried about getting pregnant again. And if you do the math, Kiara, born in 2012, took quiet some time. I wrote an update in 2010 and then finally announced good news in 2011. And once Kiara arrived, that journey to get pregnant faded away, until we started trying again. Yep, we're trying again. Wish us luck. Here's a poem from my collection about a piece of that journey. A Life in Revision: Reflections on Motherhood.

Conception  

I wish it was more magical,

more an experience of the earth,

a spontaneous moment of passion

between your mother and father

on a tropical vacation during summer break.

Instead, your conception, the beautiful moment

when the egg and sperm collided

and cells divided forming the beginnings of you,

was a sterile miracle

in a doctor’s office on Sunset in Hollywood.

I suppose it was magical

the shots in my belly

the long freeway drive

the hollow straw

and Dr. Jabara on a holiday weekend.

Then there were the weddings we attended

with the secret of you growing in my womb

and the holiday season that passed,

all of us so anxious for your arrival.

It is magic—and miracle.

You are here.

Fertility Update II...

It's been a little over a year since my last fertility post and that's how long it's taken.

Infertility sucks.

But with some help from two different healthcare providers, unimaginable medical advances, a lot of poking and prodding, a dozen or so shots to the abdomen, and a specialist with a curly straw on a Saturday morning, we've got something brewing.

We are thankful for all the support from friends and family throughout this time and we feel quite lucky. This journey has opened our eyes to how hard it is for so many couples, but people say it's all worth it.

We hear our lives are about to change (early in April) and that's both scary and exciting. We're scared. We're excited. Please, wish us luck, unless you are supposed to say break a leg. I have no idea how this parenting thing works.

Really? I'll be happier without kids? No kidding...

Come on, look how happy I am with my niece and nephew.

I was on my way to meet good friends the other day, stuck in LA traffic, and this Freakonomics program was on the radio: "The Economists Guide to Parenting." David and I are getting pretty serious about trying to start a family so I gave it a listen. Hey, even though we're not parents yet, I might as well get a head start.

The show had economists applying rational economic theory to child-rearing and family planning. They talked about the investments parents make in their children (piano lessons, soccer camp, organic produce...) even though they are likely to have very little or no return. A couple economists argued that you should be a more chill parent so you and your kids will be happier. All of it was very interesting, but the part that stuck with me as I crawled along Fairfax was the scientific study stating that married couples without kids were much happier than married couples with kids. Really? David and I are happier than all of our married counterparts with kids? Can someone remind me why I want to have kids?

Anyway, I met up with my friends and their almost-two-year-old son. I thought about how happy I was not having to take care of a kid during lunch. I watched little Keanu's parents take turns walking with him, coaxing him to eat, or drink or nap and though I'm pretty sure his parents still had a nice time, it also looked like a lot of work. And still, as I got back into my car by myself, I knew I agreed with those economists. I know it's irrational to want the craziness of being a parent. I can't explain it, but when I talked with David about the story later that evening, we both knew, without a doubt, starting a family is what we both want. So, look at us now, we're pretty happy, but wish us luck. We hope to be less happy very soon.

Fertility Update

Last year I over-shared that David and I were trying to get pregnant in Fertile Soil.  Well, we're still trying and this fertility business, apparently, can get a bit tricky.

At first, when we found out each month that I wasn't pregnant we'd celebrate with an "I'm not pregnant" cocktail (usually a greyhound) and toasted the month to come.

But now I'm tired of cocktails and ready to get this next chapter of our lives going.  We're staying positive and taking a look at medical options but that's the news for now.  No news.  And until there's something more exciting to report, here's a thought-provoking video on fertility/infertility.  It sheds light on this struggle many couples face.


What IF? A Portrait of Infertility from Keiko Zoll on Vimeo.

Fertile Soil

We're trying to get pregnant again. Well, not really again.

The last time I was pregnant we hadn't been trying. It was an accident in a moment when I demanded passion and spontaneity from of a marriage that was falling to pieces. I hadn't been tracking fertility cycles or taking pre-natal vitamins and I continued to drink. It wasn't until after the Thanksgiving Katrina was dating the wine-maker and the Christmas party of White Russians that I realized I'd missed a period.

I took a pregnancy test on New Year's Eve and stopped drinking immediately. I started taking the prenatals and scheduled an appointment with my doctor. I told her I drank before I realized I was pregnant. She told me, "Don't beat yourself up about it. There isn't anything you can do about it now."

But just before my first appointment with my ob-gyn I cramped. I bled. I drove with my husband and roommate to the immediate care center downtown and made tasteless dead baby jokes. We waited until the ultrasound tech confirmed the miscarriage, "I can't find anything, no heartbeat. Are you sure you were pregnant?" The doctor's paperwork said something about a threatened abortion.

I kept my appointment with the ob-gyn: she could schedule the DNC or I could just let my body take care of it naturally. I decided to let it happen. The cramping had been uncomfortable but not unbearable. It took almost three months of nausea and spotting before my levels evened out and I didn't have to have blood drawn every week to ensure that my body had shed my failure.

I learned quickly that miscarriages happen all the time. 20% of recognized pregnancies end in miscarriage. My sister who also miscarried told me, "It's not your fault. There's no way of knowing why we miscarry." Women at work mentioned their own miscarriages: their mother or sister or friend who miscarried. But people don't like to talk about it and my mind swung back and forth between blaming myself and giving thanks that we weren't getting ready for a baby because although I thought we were ready, I know we weren't.

A few weeks after the miscarriage we took Scout, our chocolate lab, to be spayed. I walked her gingerly after the surgery and cried over the stitches along her belly. I watched the wound and waited for her to heal. Maybe when her belly was smooth again I would feel healed too. But Scout never had the belly of a puppy again and I could relate to her empty insides.

I started going to therapy. We worked on our marriage. And two years later we have healed. We are ready, really ready, to try; to track fertility cycles and take prenatal vitamins and stop drinking alcohol and caffeine.

We get to work on baby making and now we wait.