How Does the Fox Feel?

January 7, 2015

I’ve been having a rough time of late. I had thought it was just the New Year and its endless onslaught of articles and proclamations about this year will be better and if you just do X, Y & Z – or STOP doing X, Y & Z – then you will be happier.

Well, we’re a week out and I’m thinking it’s more than that.

I’ve been reliving my ectopic #1 hell. More or less in real time (Sep – Feb). September and October weren’t any worse than other years but it kicked into high gear in November.

I believe this is largely for two reasons:

    1. TimeHop. Yes, I know I should just delete this horrible app that is a constant reminder of the loss and grief I was suffering 4 years ago. At least once a week I get the reminder that I was going for betas All.The.Goddamn.Time. You know why that is? Because at this time 4 years ago I as going for weekly betas. At this time 4 years ago my betas were all <50. And yet I still had to go for them and STILL ended up needing more methotrexate. It was a super dark time and I could barely function. Beta didn’t reach <5 until February. So I’ve got a few more weeks of this. At this point I feel I need to see this through to February. And THEN I will delete or mute TimeHop.  But, while TimeHop is a punk ass bitch for reminding me, I don’t really need the reminder to relive it all – it happens all the time, just usually it’s more compacted and less drawn out over time. The fact is I’m just not over it. Or past it. Or even through it. I still feel broken. And occasionally, like now, fragile. That’s pronounced frah-gee-lay by the way. It’s Italian. Look it up.


  1. The contest I judged. I think this one may be more to blame than TimeHop, honestly. I’m still processing the emotional fallout from it (I haven’t even talked to my therapist about it yet since the drama of Xmas came first and I had to cancel on her just to judge the contest in the first place). When I agreed to judge the Sher I Believe contest I knew that there was going to be someone there making a documentary and I’d need to consent (or not) to being filmed. What I *didn’t* expect was that we’d all go around and tell our respective stories in front of that camera. I seriously doubt I’ll make the cut in the final documentary since the focus of the documentary is the 2013 contest. This is just some follow up footage, the majority of which will probably not be used. I write freely here in this space about my experiences. But you can’t see me while I type. So being filmed was…new/odd/interesting/more difficult/uncomfortable? As I said wrote, I’m still processing all of this so I’m not sure exactly how I feel about it. I just know that there were several elements of judging that contest that were difficult and one of them was telling my story on camera. Although… funny story…while telling my story (I went last) I felt like it was getting too long and I somehow completely skipped over my hysterectomy and endometriosis excision and jumped straight from surrogacy (which I only glossed over) to adoption. …Aaand this is why I need to blog more. Just typing out that sentence made me realize WHY I forgot to mention the surgery. In all candidness, I did truly forget in the moment. But I think it was because the looks on the faces surrounding me were too sad. I think I wanted to spare them all the sad. I have to live it. You don’t. Seeing people react with sadness to my words made me want to stop saying them. I write here to help me process. Not for sympathy or pity. Also, I do not like being the center or focus of attention. I know everyone thinks bloggers are narcissistic assholes but really, I can’t stand it. However, here on this blog, just like you can’t see me writing, or crying as I type, I can’t see your face while you’re reading. If I could…I’d probably just shut up. I mean…why do you think I always insert a joke when things get serious? When I do tell it in person, I usually require that everyone have a drink in hand. Preferably two. And yes, buy me one too, please. Or two. It’s a double fisted drink kind of story. So yeah, telling it, in person, on camera and without drinks…? Well…that’s why I brought chocolate.

So add on top of these two triggers that Xmas was a bit stressful and drama-llama-full, New Years proclamations irk me to no end and our adoption paperwork is STILL on hold and the Fox is just a bit – OK a lot – out of sorts.



15 Responses to “How Does the Fox Feel?”

  1. Mrs T Says:

    You’ve been through a lot of shit my friend (I say without a look of pity but a big glass of wine to clink with your glass.)
    I didn’t have these specific memories haunting me, but I have to say in solidarity that New Year’s followed by my birthday gives me lots of anxiety every January. I do not enjoy wondering what a new year has in store for me!

  2. Holidays ain’t what they used to be. …..and off to catch up on your blog because I’m a horrible twitter friend and have not yet.

  3. soangiewrites Says:

    It’s amazing, I think, when we write it ALL out, how much more valid it seems that we hurt and mourn so much. We belittle for the sake of others. We take on this care-giver role. What we need is folks caring for us. Letting us be in pain. Letting us grieve. Allowing space for the difficulties of life, which you, my friend, have had many of. And so here I am, never ever making faces as I read you, nor will I expect you to comfort me in the midst of your pain, in person, when we get there. XOXO

  4. A. Says:

    I do understand. My ectopic happened in such a blur of internal bleeding, emergency surgery, and preoocupation with the endless crawl of the dropping beta that I didn’t process the grief until long after. It’s just one of those (shitty, unfair) things that sorts itself out in its own good time. Hang in there!

  5. It seems like we both cope and process in alot of the same ways. I am that sick bastard that always throws in a joke because I just can’t stand the pity face people give me. I get uncomfortable when people look at me with that sad face. It makes me mad. I don’t want pity. I want empathy, I want kindness.

    I am right there with you, double fisting the drinks, not making faces at you and making what others see as ill timed jokes.

  6. dipitie Says:

    (((HUGS))) to you my friend. I wish you were heading to Vegas

  7. B Says:

    Giving Fox a big hug and passing her a glass of wine.

  8. Kate Says:

    I think you are a phenomenal writer. My story overlaps with yours a bit and I look forward to reading about your experience as my husband and I also shift to adoption. Cheers.

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