A challenge changes shape

I have always wanted to be a mother. I like to tell people that I've thought about having children since I was a child, because it's true and because it sounds good. I like to read about teaching methods and childhood development and what effects experience can have on personality and learning. I often think about what sort of environment I want to provide for my children, how I want them to feel comfortable and safe and loved, and how I'd like to foster in them a love of exploration and creation and imagination. To this day, when I hear about a fun trip or project, I think about doing it with my kids.

Two things came along in my life to derail my assumptions. Neither of them managed to snuff out my dreams, no matter how hard they tried. But together, it seemed that they would see to it that my dreams never became a reality.

The first thing, of course, was cancer. I was diagnosed with biphenaltypic leukemia in 1997, and the three rounds of chemotherapy and bone marrow transplant I underwent to conquer that disease effectively destroyed my ovaries--or, perhaps, the eggs inside them. I only have regular periods when I'm on hormone replacements, and despite having nothing but unprotected sex throughout my seven-year marriage to Sean, we have never had so much as a miscarriage.

Through my struggles with this reality, Sean always told me to face reality, to try to be happy without my dream. Sean didn't want children; that was the second thing.

He never wanted kids. Never dreamed about it, never thought about it except when I talked about it. The most he would ever agree was that he'd accept it if I happened to get pregnant; aggressive fertility treatments and adoption simply weren't things he was interested in. There was a time when I tearfully tried to express just how important having children was to me...he was silent for a time and then said quietly, "I didn't think it was a deal-breaker."

It wasn't, of course. I knew how Sean felt when I married him. I married him because I loved and still love him, not because I expected him to give me everything I wanted. I've come to realize that Sean doesn't fully grasp how much I love him, how leaving him to pursue one of my dreams simply isn't an option.

And so, over the past ten years as I struggled with the knowledge of my infertility and had doors slammed in my face with every test, I was alone. Sean ached for me, but never with me. He wanted me to be happy. He wanted me to forget about having kids and just enjoy my life with him.

In a way, that made it a little easier. At least that way, if I couldn't give him children, I wasn't disappointing him.

But that part of the equation fell away last weekend, when Sean said, as if I'd known it all along, "I still want to have a daughter one day. Just one. Of course, with my luck, we'd end up with a boy. I'd like us to be able to have a kid, but if that's not possible...I would be okay with adoption."

We've got a lot going on right now. We're planning to move across town, and Sean's trying to get a certification and move on with his career. Once that's settled I will be undergoing elective surgery. We won't be ready to try expensive fertility treatments for a year after that.

But that's the plan now. It may be too late...or it may never have been possible. But we'll try.

And if that fails, it looks like we'll be adopting.

I honestly don't know how to feel. This isn't a too-good-to-be-true situation, but it's still so much more than I was led to expect these past ten years.

My world view, which for so long has felt so narrow, seems suddenly to have expanded. If I just turn my head, I feel like I could see it all.

But I can't bring myself to go all-in just yet. Not with all the disappointments I've already gone through.

At this point I will clamp down and allow myself only the tiniest cautious flicker of hope.

The battle within

Lately I have been struggling with things I want to do, things I need to do, things I absolutely have to do, and things I think I should do. I've been stressed and unhappy for most of this week, a striking contrast to last week, when I felt like I could do anything. I ended up burning out and crashing hard and it sucked.

I feel like I go through cycles of mood and competence. Normally it doesn't flip so fast from week to week, though.

I'm reevaluating lots of things. What do I definitely want, and how can I get it? What things do I have to do every day to make those goals happen? Is there anything I can cut out to save time and energy?

Moving to North Augusta would help--I would be able to walk or bike to work, maximizing my commute by combining it with exercise. But I doubt it will solve all my problems.

So here I am at Boll Weevil, seeking comfort in warm familiarity, settling in with a Curious George, chips, and tea.

I hope I can figure this out.

Picture roundup

I wanted to link to some galleries I've posted in the last few months, to give blog readers an idea of what I've been up to.

Brick Pond Park and Alligator - September 22, 2009

Henderson Heritage Preserve - October 17, 2009

Work Halloween Party - October 22, 2009

Riverwalk - November 3, 2009

Aiken State Natural Area - November 7, 2009

Augusta Riverfront Marina and Skyline - November 9, 2009

Gasping Gobbler 5K - November 21, 2009

And there's more to come...

So...yeah.

After that low point with the cheeseburger, I just wanted to let you know that I'm redoubling my health efforts. (Again.)

I've been a member of SparkPeople since February, but yesterday I decided to really use the site. Here's my SparkPage, which among other things lists my weight. Got to motivate myself somehow.

The fact that I can't afford to eat out anymore is hopefully going to help me pack lunches regularly again. Aside from the burger slip-up on Tuesday, I have packed my lunches this week: frozen dinner on Monday, frozen dinner plus veggies on Wednesday, and today I crumbled the leftover hamburger from the dinner Sean made last night into some stroganoff noodles and packed some leftover spinach to go with.

I'm also going to make sure to work out in some capacity every day except Sunday. Yesterday I took a half-hour walk at Riverwalk over my lunch break. It wasn't much, but it was far better than nothing, and it put me in a much better mood for the rest of the day. Tuesdays and Thursdays I see my personal trainer in the morning. My trainer is going to give me a yoga video to do at home. I also have those TurboJam videos and my Wii Fit to keep things interesting. So I should have no excuse not to keep myself moving.

I've started over and failed so many times now. I hope using SparkPeople will make the difference this time, by giving me that extra push I need.

Motivation

I have been pretty lax in my weight loss efforts of late. I've been working out with my trainer on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but otherwise I haven't been doing much of anything, and I've been eating whatever I feel like eating. It shows, on the scale and in my clothes.

Shopping for jeans that would actually fit this morning gave me a good motivational idea. I could set up a schedule of when I can buy new clothes. Then, if that time arrives and I haven't gone down a size, I won't be allowed to buy any.

A tangible, specific goal like this--come down at least one size before the next shopping trip--would probably be better motivation than the generic "lose weight". We all know how well that one works.

I just need to decide what a reasonable time frame would be.

Finally fall

I stepped out into a cool, lightly dewy morning with a bright yet unwarm sun and felt refreshed. N, I noticed, was wearing a zippered sweatshirt. I was in my usual stretchy pants and t-shirt, my bare arms already tingling.

It wasn't long into this finally fall morning workout that N was tying her sweatshirt around her waist. Our bodies provided all the heat we needed as we walked, squatted, and kicked our way around the track. 50 leaning pushups and a quick jog later, we held plank on the ground, shifting our weight back and up through the core, breathing in the scents of water and soil. The damp grass left my hands raw.

I drove home with the window all the way down, my arm hanging out into long sought autumn air, and when I arrived I simply sat, watching the shadow patterns the gentle breeze spun through waving leaves on the wall.

We have very intellectual conversations

Me: A watched pot never boils. Ever.

Sean: I see little bubbles forming.

Getting toned

I was looking back through my "health"-tagged posts and realized I haven't talked about what I've been doing lately.

The last weight I recorded here on my blog was 217. I'm sorry to say that I'm up to 230. I know some of that must be muscle, but it's still been hard to see that number show up every time I've weighed in the last few weeks. I wasn't very vigilant about eating right while on vacation, and I didn't work out, either. But now I'm back on track, and I'm hoping that a new workout routine, plus packing my lunches, plus Sean and my decision to eat more home-cooked meals, will result in some weight loss.

When I got back from England, it was the middle of the week. I decided to just not worry about anything other than unpacking, organizing, and getting resettled at work. I didn't even see my trainer until the following Tuesday. But starting at that point I began to build some good habits.

Every weekday I have been getting up sometime between 6 and 7. On days when I don't see my trainer I go to the gym earlier than 8 and do 20-30 minutes of cardio, some strength training with free weights and machines, then some ab and back work. If I've made it to the gym early enough, I then go swimming for a bit, and sometimes even have time to sit in the hot tub afterwards. I leave at 9, the same time as I leave when I do see my trainer, which gives me just enough time to get home, shower, pack a lunch, and head out the door.

The first week I was pretty good about packing a lunch, but last week I slipped and this week has been kind of stressful, so I ended up eating out more than I should have. Still, I'm proud that I haven't missed a single workout on the weekdays. I'm hoping to start working out on Saturday, too, but at my trainer's suggestion I'll leave Sunday as a day of rest.

To save money, I'm quitting Weight Watchers and have started using The Daily Plate at LiveStrong.com to track my food and exercise. The UI isn't great, but the food database is exceptional, and I can use the iPhone application without having to be online.

I've already noticed that my arms and legs seem more toned. My trainer says my waist is more toned as well. I can't tell, but I hope it's true! I think I'm on the road to making real progress, rather than just talking about wishing I was.

Frustrated

I have so much to say and so many things I want to do, but I have no time or energy! BAH!

Where is all my time?

This week has been both the longest and the shortest in recent memory. Laborious things drag out and fun things fly by--or I don't find the time to do them at all. I've been wanting to post on various topics for quite some time, but I've barely even turned on my laptop this week. Last night I finally pulled her out of standby, only to lie down to stretch my neck for a minute and then find myself waking up blearily at 4 am.

I'm not discouraged--yet--but I am irritated.

Don't run

I mentioned in my previous post that I've always had a problem properly pacing myself. Here's a little story that illustrates that fact pretty well.

My first trip to Japan in 2001 was not a leisurely excursion. We were constantly on the move and we were always walking, whether it was to explore a certain area or just to get to our next destination.

In Kyoto, we spent a day wandering through the sprawling temples and shrines of Mt. Hiei. It was long day of hiking through the mountains.

Towards the end of the day we were headed back the way we came, so we could get to a trolley that would take us back down the mountain. We came to a temple at the foot of a long flight of wide stone stairs. I was feeling good. I'd made it through the long day and felt energetic enough to tackle those steps. And so I started briskly jogging up, to make the trip to the top shorter.

Our instructor Todd and my classmate Jason, both experienced hikers, immediately yelled at me, "No! Don't run!" Startled, I slowed down as they explained: running up the stairs would take more energy than walking up them, and I'd wear myself out for the rest of the trip back.

I wasn't sure I believed this was true. At least if I ran I could get it over with, and I might even enjoy it. Plodding up the stairs seemed like a neverending trial.

Still, I did as they suggested. It turned out that after that we had longer to go to the trolley than I'd thought. By the end of our hike my legs were only moving through the sheer force of my will. The trolley ride was but a brief respite, and soon we were trudging through the streets of Kyoto. When finally we stopped at a restaurant for a meal, I was so exhausted that all I could manage to eat was a bowl of white rice.

I wondered how it would have been if I had gone ahead and run the stairs. Would I have even made it to the trolley?

I realized even then that this story was a metaphor for life, but until yesterday I hadn't applied it to my work. Now I see that I've been trying to run from 10 in the morning until 7 at night. Some days I've managed it. Some days I've stumbled. And some days I've been numb while I recovered. The end result? I've managed to excel at work, but pretty much everything else has fallen to the wayside.

I want to do more. I don't want to pass out before I even get to the trolley.

I'll just have to remember, when the urge to plow into a project consumes me, the lesson I learned on that historic mountain.

Don't run.

Living life in the long term

I've done a lot of restructuring in my life in the past several days. Obviously, my blog template has changed. I've shifted from my dated, tables-based layout to a CSS layout with an external stylesheet and content elements pulled in via PHP. It's a change I've wanted to make since 2004, and I'll be documenting the process in a later post.

While I was at it, I went ahead and changed a few other things. I gave up on Google Reader, for one. I'd always felt like I should be using it, since so many others sing its praises, and awhile back I made the switch. However, I was never happy with the way Reader's blogroll functionality worked. I shifted back primarily because that would allow me to use Bloglines' nice, organized blogroll again. But then I actually went to view my feeds in Bloglines...and something amazing happened.

I started reading.

When that happened I realized that I hadn't been reading for a very long time.

Oh, here and there I'd read a blog post in Google Reader. But mostly I'd skim the headlines and mark things as read to get them out of my sight. And I had stopped reading news completely.

Something about being in Bloglines again, seeing my feeds organized in the nice folders I'd made, gave me fresh energy. I felt comfortable, yet energized.

I read.

I read blogs. I read news. I looked at photos and paintings. I began to reconnect with my intellectual side. I'd felt vaguely that it had been absent, but up until I was actually absorbing and analyzing new information, I hadn't fully comprehended the depths of my recent superficiality.

One apparent cause behind my slow slip into mindlessness was my choice to abandon my familiar tool, Bloglines. At work the next day, I suddenly recognized another cause.

I haven't been pacing myself.

I've always had the problem of throwing myself 100% at whatever I'm doing, finishing up quickly and spectacularly. This works for some projects, like a piece of writing, or an infrequent chore. Applying this overenthusiasm to things like exercise and daily work does get a lot accomplished in the short term, but ultimately it leaves me tired, frustrated, burned out, trapped.

I realized that if I want to improve myself, I have to slow down and give myself the gifts of time and energy. I can't leave work tired, brainless, unable to do much of anything besides zonk out in front of the TV. There's no room in a life like that for my personal projects: reading, writing, photography, building ideas, getting healthy. There's no enjoyment in a life like that.

I have to start looking at the things I need to accomplish, all of them, including work, in the long term. I have to step back and evaluate priorities, and string them out along a timeline in a reasonable manner--a manner that gives me some breathing room.

I've been reading more, writing more, and thinking more lately. I've also been happy. It's not the euphoria that leads to a depressive crash, either. It's a general sense of wellness, of purpose. It's the desire to better myself, and the confidence that I can do it.

This is how I want to continue living.

Setting a routine

On Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, I see my personal trainer at 8am. This causes me to adhere to a strict morning schedule. Unfortunately, on other days I am less rigid. On weekdays this means I might sleep in and not work out at all. On weekends I likely won't do anything productive.

I've decided that the best way to make sure I'm on track each day is to set up a routine that I'll do every morning, regardless of what day it is. I can then add items to my evening and weekend schedule as appropriate.

Here's a rough draft of what I'm thinking:

7am-8am: Wake up, do a little reading, get dressed in workout clothes.

8am-9am: Work out, either with N or on my own.

9am-9:30am: Shower and pack lunch.

9:30am-10am: Commute.

10am-7pm: Work. Try to get in a photowalk at lunch :)

7pm-7:30pm: Commute.

7:30pm-9pm: Work on projects.

9pm-11pm: Goof off.

11pm-7am: Sleep.

The right tools

My project for this weekend arrived yesterday: a nice flat workspace with no hutch and no drawers. Once it's assembled I'll have a great place to work on projects, on my laptop or otherwise.

I haven't been happy with my current computer setup for awhile now. Sitting in the living room on the couch or floor is not conducive to doing serious work. I typically end up goofing off online or watching anime. The point was driven home for me recently when I went to visit Sam in Huntsville. The purpose of the visit was to get some headway on a webcomic we've been working on. At first I was sitting on his couch with my laptop; it wasn't until the next day, when I created a work area for myself at his roleplaying table, that I started getting things done.

I'm very excited about that project. I'm also amped up about an online venture I devised and will be pursuing with the help of a new friend, Mike. It's important to me that I have a space where I can sit and focus, so these projects don't end up in the "I wonder if..." bin.

The new desk won't magically transform me into a workhorse, but having the right tools is essential for success. I can't wait to get started.

Too bright

I had just finished opening all the blinds in the living room and kitchen when Sean got up.

"Hiss," he said. "It's too bright in here."

"Hi!" I replied, glomping him. We hugged and he settled down in his gamer chair. "There's food for you in the microwave."

"It's too bright in here," he responded.

I started laughing, and bent down and wrapped my arms around him. "I love you and your silly ways."

"...it's too bright in here."

I gave in. "Since that seems to be the only thing you can say, I'll close this one," I said, reaching up and twisting the cord on the blinds next to his table.

"That's much better," Sean sighed, relief flooding his I-just-woke-up voice.

Poor baby ;)

Negative, of course

Today, it's over a week since the day my period would have started, if I were on a normal cycle. I wouldn't even know this, but it happened that I had two cycles recently, exactly 30 days apart. That hasn't happened to me without the application of hormone therapy since before I had cancer.

It didn't take much for me to begin to hope that my reproductive cycle had recovered somehow. So I waited to see if I would have period #3. And waited, and waited. If a week goes by, I told myself, I'll take a pregnancy test.

This morning I took two. Just in case.

They both rather quickly came back with the "Not Pregnant" message.

As you might imagine, I had been hoping for more than a regular cycle. I hoped that the missed period not only meant I was normal again, but that I was fertile.

I seem unable to keep from hoping.

It is a good sign that I had two periods in a row. Maybe I will have another one at some point. Maybe if I can get back into my healthy habits and lose some more weight, I'll be able to have them regularly again.

That won't mean I'm fertile, though. After all, I did undergo hormone therapy. That should have helped me get pregnant, if it were possible. It didn't happen, and that is likely my answer. Even if my ovaries do recover, it's likely that none of my eggs are viable.

I've known all of this for years, though, and it doesn't matter. I'll probably keep on hoping until I'm 50.

I hate this

I've fallen out of all my good habits. It only took a couple of weeks to destroy several months' work. I'm not exercising much at all and I'm eating crap. I feel like I'm stuck in a cycle of unhealthiness and depression. Whenever I try to start fresh, whether using Weight Watchers or something else, I find myself slipping up almost immediately.

I hate this.

Grouchy

I've found myself getting annoyed or upset by things that shouldn't matter today, or at least which don't warrant such a strong response. For example, this morning I passed a house where I've seen a cute little old man doing yard work or getting the mail before. He wasn't around and the house was in the process of getting new siding. I thought, "What if the man died, and his family is fixing up his house to sell it?" And the thought made me so sad that tears came to my eyes.

Then today at lunch, I tried the new cafe in Hammond's Ferry. I had really been looking forward to it. When I got there, it was busy, so I couldn't sit outside in the nice weather. Inside, after I was seated, all the waitresses ignored me--I don't know if they thought I was waiting on someone else or what. The hostess tried to help me but was too distracted to do a good job. She offered me bread and never brought it, and didn't ask if I'd like dessert before bringing the check. I'd wanted to try something of theirs, but I was so irritated by the experience that I paid and left instead. Normally I would have just said, "Actually, I was hoping to get some dessert, too."

So I grouchily drove away, still wanting dessert. It struck me that I still hadn't tried Sno Cap Drive-In, so I went there. After sitting in a parking spot for awhile, I finally noticed the sign on the menu that says, "sorry the system is out of order. You may place your order inside and we will bring it to you." Great, I thought, a drive-in that isn't even really a drive-in. What a fabulous day I'm having.

These are not things to get upset over, but I can't seem to help it.

The hot fudge cake sundae is helping, though.

As you might guess, I am wondering if I'm hormonal, if I'm going to have another period. Tomorrow it will be exactly 30 days since the last one started. Am I going to keep having regular periods? That's what I'm hoping.

But if that hope is causing some sort of psychosomatic PMS, then BLAH.

A little awkward

Names abbreviated to protect, well, everyone.

JA: Have you seen JT today?
Me: Can't say that I have.
JA: Well, she has this big...mark in the middle of her forehead. And as I was talking to her, I actually stopped to look at it. Then, you know, I tried to keep going, but...man, I don't know if it's a bruise or what. So if you see her...
Me: Try not to stare?
JA: Yeah.

If my work was a sitcom, at this point we'd cut to a scene where I'm staring at the mark on JT's forehead. That hasn't actually happened.

...yet.

Update: Hours later, I suddenly remembered something.

Me: Did it occur to you when you saw the mark on JT's forehead that today's Ash Wednesday?
JA: ...no it did not. But now that you mention it...

A horrible day turns good, then weird (TMI)

Today I felt terrible. I was on the verge of tears well into early afternoon, and then I actually did cry.

It started with my new, poorly-researched diet plan. I had had high hopes for the iPhone application Dietician, and what happy changes it might bring to my life. I got up at 7 and fiddled around until around 8:15 and then went shopping to get the groceries to follow Dietician's plan for this week.

And already I'd hit a stumbling block. Dietician's shopping lists are "today", or today plus 7 or 14 days. Think about the logistics of shopping for today's meals for a minute. So I'm supposed to go to the grocery store before breakfast, and then cook everything that needs to be cooked when I get back, before work?

I ran around the store in a frenzy, trying to get everything on the list, which was very inconveniently not sorted by grocery store section. Making matters more difficult was the fact that the amount of each food item was not totaled up; I had to do it in my head as I went. I had known about these cons to the program when I bought it, but I hadn't realized just how much of a pain they were going to be until I actually tried it.

I got as many of the items as I could before I realized I was way out of time--another con: when you have Dietician open, you can't see the clock! Then I checked out and hurried home and threw everything into the refrigerator and freezer. Of course, I had no time to prepare the recipes that were assigned for today. So I gave up and tossed cereal and my leftover meatloaf sandwich half in my lunch box and flew off to work.

I hadn't had anything to eat and the new diet plan I'd had such high hopes for had turned out to be a disaster. Those were perfectly good reasons to be upset, and so I figured that was all it was. I was as pleasant as I could possibly be to everyone--fortunately I wasn't in one of my evil moods, just a very self-piteous one. But I had trouble concentrating and ended up eating what I'd packed for lunch almost immediately, and then, over my late lunch break, I decided to escape to Boll Weevil. I started crying almost as soon as I got into my car and the tears didn't stop until I got there.

Originally I figured I'd eat something ridiculously bad for me that I hadn't allowed myself to eat in awhile, but after that meatloaf sandwich I really didn't feel up to it, so I ended up having a salad with chicken salad on top. The chicken salad was a treat; I've hardly ever had it in the past year due to all the mayonnaise. Then I decided I wanted cake. Big gooey all chocolate cake. So I ordered a slice of Perfect Chocolate Cake, which is really the equivalent of two or three pieces, and ate quite a bit of it.

It was simply amazing how I felt about a half hour after that. My concentration returned. I was smiling. I felt productive. I had honestly expected to be even more miserable due to guilt over eating so much bad-for-me food, but that feeling was nowhere to be found. I felt...happy.

I finished up some niggling tasks and laid out a plan for tomorrow. Finally it was time to leave. I stopped in the bathroom on my way out...and that's when I discovered what might account for it all.

Blood. Just a trace.

"You're kidding," I said aloud. I double-checked. "You're not kidding."

When I got home I looked at my calendar. I'd had a period in January that lasted nine days. It had started on January 10--30 days ago.

This could very well be a regular cycle.

You must understand, I have not had normal periods without the assistance of hormone medication since before I had cancer in 1997. I have occasionally had periods, but each one was isolated, with the next coming months or years later.

I am still having trouble believing that I'm having one now, so soon after the last. So...normally!

It is obviously premature to assume this means anything, other than perhaps that my weight loss efforts have helped my whole body become healthier. But if you know me, you know that my thoughts immediately went to the possibility of children. Try as I might, I can't imagine that I'll give up all hope until I'm too old.

For now, though, I'm concentrating on immediate truths: that ultimately this is a good thing, that I'm getting healthier, that there's nothing wrong with me...and that I can cure PMS with chocolate.

I wish I could go back in time and comfort mid-afternoon me, who sat in her car wailing "Why does this keep happening to me?" with tears streaming down her face.

It's okay, me. It's just your period.