Watching Autumn Taking Over: North-South Lake Campground

It looks like my plan to celebrate autumn is working.

Normally, I try to never rush the time. If I want a moment to pass faster, I keep reminding myself that when it passes, the moment will never be back. It is only given once, and bad or good, it must be treasured. I have to elaborate a little here:

Infertility does not have any “benefits”; but what it gives us is an opportunity to observe more than a fertile woman does. Which is neither good, nor bad. It’s just a “side effect.” We observe, and imagine what kind of mother we would be. We observe, and image what we would do differently. We observe, and we do things a pregnant woman, or a mother, wouldn’t do, just because they don’t have an opportunity to do it (get drunk? - yes, this is in our top ten things to do list). I was lucky enough to get pregnant after all; that’s why I was given a chance to realize that infertility taught me something I probably wouldn’t have learned if I was fertile. NB: While you are fighting to get pregnant, you are not learning anything. But if you do get pregnant, you are given a chance to slow down, take a deep breath, and look from the side at your own life and experience you gained while being infertile. When I re-evaluated myself, I found that I learned how to find pleasure in life when there is barely any pleasure to be found. I learned that I am now able to see a lot more beauty in every day than I was before. I guess, you have to master a skill of being happy somehow when THE thing that should have made you the happiest woman on earth is not happening to you. I also learned that I am now a lot more patient. Hmm, perhaps, I should have said it differently. I learned that there is no point in being impatient. No matter how much you are rushing things, they will not happen just because you cannot wait for them to happen. Unlike feelings, such as anger, or being nervous, or being jealous, which you cannot control easily, your quality of being impatient is quite simple to subdue. You can try to do it, and you will see for yourself. I am still impatient when it comes to a lot of things in everyday life; but generally, when there is something big I am waiting for, I learned how not to rush it. So, waiting for my son to be born is not simple. But definitely manageable! In July, I sat down and thought of how I was going to spend my time waiting for his arrival. Shopping? Decorating the nursery? Joining some kind of endless everything-you-need-to-know-about-your-baby class? All of this was not for me. What really did interest me, though, was to create a bunch of “milestones” which we would move to every week. I wanted to plan something interesting for as many weekends as I could, so “milestones” would come soon enough, but they themselves would be worth to wait. Mike and I love road trips, so for the months of September and October I planned some cool short half-day getaways. This also gave us an opportunity to celebrate fall, which we both are fond of. Finally, we were able to travel with Ralph, who is a true member of our family, and who deserves to see the world, too. Last weekend, we went to Saratoga (read about the trip here), and today we went to North-South Lake Campground, which is near Hunter, NY.

My original plan, and the highlight of the trip, was to see Kaaterskill Falls. I thought we would hike to the falls, and then, we would move to the campground, have a picnic lunch there, perhaps explore a couple of trails and go home. However – and another thing I learned during infertility – my plan went crushing down; but I was prepared for it to happen, and was opened to whatever would have come instead. We drove past the falls, but we were not able to stop the car and park. The waterfall is located in the middle of the scenic view road, which is a classic windy road with mountains on one side and nothing of the other. The designated parking lot fits barely 12-15 cars, and at the time we were passing it, it was completely full. We did see the falls from the car window, though, and, like I honestly was suspecting, poor waterfall was lacking water. Unfortunately, due to such a dry summer and September, the waterfall lost all its power and therefore beauty. We continued driving, and decided we would try to stop there again on the way back.

When we arrived to the campground, we first had lunch. We were not allowed by the water with the dog, but they have a gazillion picnic tables all around the grounds.

Then, we went hiking. Mike is definitely not a hiker, but he really enjoys long walks. I myself am now being very cautious with where and how I am going and what I am doing; so, when we saw a steep hill, or a too small of a path, we would turn around and change the direction.

We were walking like that for about three hours. The weather was gorgeous: Crisp mountain air, soft but still warm autumn sun, and blue cloudless sky. Ralph was doing what he does best – following his nose barely even looking around; Mike was enjoying his vapor and taking pictures of me and Ralphie; and I couldn’t take smile off of my face and hand off of my belly. We ended up hiking to a beautiful spot on top of the mountain overlooking Catskills. Stunning!

The best part about leaving early in the morning is that we were able to come back home by 5 PM and have the whole Saturday evening for ourselves.

Scenic upstate roads. So cozy!

Next weekend, we are taking a break. Another lesson I learned – Kat, do not overdo it!! Happy 23 weeks to us!        

 

Yaddo Gardens & Coxsackie: Catching Last Days of Summer

Have you read The Secret Garden by F. H. Burnett? I have a classic philological memory, which basically means that I cannot remember titles of books, names of authors, and even what a book was exactly about. Often, I even forget that I read a certain book. Sometimes, I remember that there used to be a book that I really enjoyed. I manage to find that book with the help of Google, I re-read it, I once again like it, and then I forget all about it. Again. So if you ask me: “Hey, Kat, no, I haven’t read The Secret Garden. Tell me about it!”, I would not be able to tell you about the book, or at least some segment of the book, that way you would expect me to. But I would probably tell you that throughout that book, a little girls’ curiosity turns her whole young world upside down. I can’t really tell you what happens to her as I do not really remember, but what I can tell you is that she is so curious that you are being as curious as she is. You are so curious, you draw pictures of a hidden garden in your head. You cannot see it yet, because there is a gate that’s locked, but you imagine wild rose bushes, giant trees and cracked statues… you imagine this garden so vividly that it stays in your memory as if you really saw it. And when you finally see it in real life, you exclaim: “This is it! This is the Secret Garden from that book I think I read once which name I do not remember!”

I saw my Secret Garden yesterday. For me, it started with the Gate. The gate was unlocked, but before you come in, through a delicate railing, you see those thousands of roses, and half working fountains, and narrow paths… but this time, I could actually take a walk inside the garden, and even take some photos:

Yesterday, Mike, Ralph and I drove to Saratoga Springs to visit Yaddo Gardens. The common area of the garden it quite small, a 20 minute walk, really, if you do not spend too much time taking pictures, and you don’t bring a picnic. The garden is probably most beautiful in May when all roses are in full bloom. But for me, the garden as we saw it was the Secret Garden from my memory.

After we saw Yaddo Gardens, we drove to Coxsackie. Coxsackie is a small town with an almost inappropriate sounding name, in addition to the name of a disease, is located right next to Catskill. Like many other towns in upstate New York, Coxsackie looks pretty much abandoned, with its “Our of Business” and “For Lease” signs in every second window shop. But it reality, there are certain local spots that are so picturesque and cozy that if you are lucky enough to find them, you would really fall in love with the place. We drove through narrow winding roads, passing early 1900’s looking streets, until we reached a lake. The sight of the lake came from nowhere, and the view was spectacular.

Me showcasing my 22 weeks of a baby belly. Excited to see the bump!

Fall is right around the corner. We are all ready for it, but it’s nice to catch these last warm summer days. I know I will miss them when cold comes.

22 Weeks Pregnant: 'I Am Not Afraid, I Was Born to Do This.'

I am 22 weeks and 1 day pregnant. I am trying to figure out how exactly I feel about it. I can easily describe my feelings up to this point:

4 weeks pregnant: The doctor called my husband and then Mike called me. I told Michael right away, I was not peeing on sticks anymore, as I was refusing to hear more bad news. Now he was going to be my filter. Unlike me who received a “no” at least fifty times, Mike received a “no” only once. Twice he got lucky. He called me to announce I was pregnant. My heart skipped a bit, like that other time, and I asked him to repeat it 3 more times. He gladly did. I thought I was going to miscarry that moment from all the excitement I was feeling.

4 weeks and 20 minutes pregnant: I am no longer happy. I feel like I am going to miscarry again. I am listening to my body aching here and hurting there, promising the period any minute now.

5 weeks pregnant:  Those 7 days lasted for a year. No happiness whatsoever. Not even a drop. Fear to miscarry again dominating over my body and soul. I am literally almost depressed and hating myself for that.

5 weeks and 6 days pregnant: Discovering my boobs are no longer sore (my only pregnancy symptom). Bursting into tears, explaining Mike I miscarried. Mike is happy: Look, you are emotional, another great pregnancy sign! A comment that, of course, adds more tears.

6 weeks pregnant: There is a heartbeat! A real heartbeat, with a sound and a chart and everything! The sonogram took 35 seconds. But that sound, me first time hearing the heartbeat of my son, is still so vivid in my memory.

6 weeks and 22 hours pregnant: Tomorrow is my birthday. Waking up at 10PM to go to the bathroom. Peeing. Feeling a familiar feeling of blood pouring out together with urine. Looking inside a toilet – it’s full of blood. Next comes pain. A period pain. A miscarriage pain. The pain is so bad I lay on the cold bathroom floor and can’t move. I am bleeding right on the bathroom floor tiles. I cry, I can’t breathe, I am scared, I am confused, I am devastated, I don’t understand what is happening. I heard his heartbeat 14 hours ago. My husband is starting to panic, asking me what to do and how to help. I don’t know. I am able to tell him to call an ambulance and tell them I am having a bad miscarriage. 30 minutes later, they are taking me to the hospital. It’s 11 PM. My birthday is in an hour. The pain is almost gone, but I am numb inside. They look at my vagina, they check my cervix, they take more blood out of my uterus with their hands. They are rolling me into a sonogram room. The sonogram lady is so nice, but I couldn’t care less. And then she says: Happy birthday mama! Here is your baby safe and sound, and here is their beautiful heartbeat – stronger than in the morning! We are in disbelief. We are stuck at the hospital until 5 AM. I am so tired, still in pain, happy, relieved. Throw up right there by the bed into a garbage bin. A kind nurse suggests having some crackers with ginger ale and sends us home.

Weeks 6 and 1 day through week 13: Living from sonogram to sonogram. My sonograms are once a week, and every week last for a year. After week 9 I think I feel something like happiness. After week 10, happiness with a bit of confidence. After week 11, brave enough to tell Mike’s parents I am pregnant. After week 12, to tell my brother the good news. After week 13, to tell the rest of the family. Still very shaky, still scared, but definitely happy and dreamy.

Week 13-16: Stopped bleeding. Ultrasound confirmed we were having a boy. Tests showed he was perfectly healthy. We went to Grand Cayman for a week. After we came back, I felt the baby for the first time, and so did Mike! Having him feel the baby for the first time is still my happiest memory from the whole pregnancy so far.

And now here we are at week 22. The baby is kicking and growing, I finally have a little bump. And I even am a proud owner of a Snoogle the pregnancy pillow. What I feel towards my pregnancy and my baby is not that simple to describe. I feel relief. Excitement. Disbelief. Happiness. Prudence. But most of all, I feel love. I do not love the pregnancy as it is hiding my baby from me. But I love my child. I cannot wait to hold him, healthy and strong, in my hands. I cannot wait to look at him, to talk to him, to tell him how long I have been waiting for him. I cannot wait until I see what he looks like. To hear what he sounds like. To learn what he smells like. I cannot wait to be a mother.

And this is why I started this blog. I want to make sure I AM a good mother. I want to see what I am like from the side, and to become a better parent.

22 weeks pregnant. 18 weeks to motherhood!

New Year in September. Shanah Tovah!

Rosh Hashanah... Last year, during the Rosh Hashanah service, it was the first time when I truly felt a “religious” feeling.

It came to me so suddenly, too. I was standing there wondering if this is what God really wanted – all these people in one room, half praying, half sleeping, with little to no religious enthusiasm. (I often wonder about it at a synagogue. To bring myself back to the actual service, I then look at the rabbi, praying so sincerely, and realize that this is really “it,” the true faith is here, but not all of us are at this time allowed to feel it.) Last year, at the Rosh Hashanah service, I was standing with the opened prayer book in my hands, not reading really, but thinking about my year. So many happy things happened, and I was so grateful for them; but I still wasn’t pregnant. That thought made me so sad that I desperately started reading the prayer, more to distract myself from the sadness rather than to pray.

And then I saw it. The prayer right in front of my eyes: “On Rosh Hashanah it is written, and on Yom Kippur it is sealed <…> Who will rest and who will wander? / Who will be safe and who will be torn? / Who will be calm and who will be tormented?.. But teshuvah and tefillah and tzedakah (return and prayer and righteous acts) deflect the evil of the decree.” I started thinking that if it was written that I would not have a child next year, I had ten days to try to change it. In ten short days I had to rethink my life and reevaluate my mindset to get at least one step closer to getting pregnant. This decision felt so good and so right. I found hope again.

Between last year’s Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur I went to talk to the rabbi. I honestly told him about what was happening in my life and about my feelings. I told him that calling myself Jewish wasn’t enough anymore. I needed to be one. And with his help, after Yom Kippur, with the new understanding I once again learned about how to be a Jewish woman, about the purity of the family and about mitzvahs given only to Jewish women. This past year was not easy. We faced failure after failure; went through more treatments and procedures; struggled through a miscarriage… But my faith was strong like never before.

This year at the synagogue, I was standing on the same spot I stood last year, 21 weeks pregnant, and I felt so grateful. I truly hope that my son will come to the faith, too. That Judaism for him will be more than just general knowledge.

Dear son, I am wishing you a happy and healthy new year. Your father and I cannot wait to share our lives with you! L’Shanah Tovah!

Patience Is Bitter, but Its Fruit Is Sweet

Некоторым людям хватает бутылки вина и одной бессонной ночи, чтобы зачать ребенка. Нам с Майком потребовалось почти пять лет. Бутылки вина вскоре сменились таблицами и подсчетами, потом таблетками, уколами, операциями… «Счастье нельзя купить!» радостно выкрикивали социальные сети, пестря яркими картинками счастливой мамы, окруженной детьми. Социальные сети не упоминают, сколько стоит ЭКО или суррогатная мать. «Усынови! Вот я бы усыновила» говорили знакомые. Усыновление не для всех. Не всем дан дар полюбить чужого ребенка, как своего. Усыновить не из-за жалости, а из-за любви, не для галочки, а для себя. Для себя и для мужа.




А в душе ты уже давно мать. Материнство – такая естественная вещь – должно быть доступно каждой женщине. Это, пожалуй, единственное природное свойство, заложенное в женщину и только в женщину. Отнять его у нас – это лишить нас самой нашей сущности. Без умения стать биологической матерью мы вянем, как сорванный цветок. И если есть хоть маленький шанс, что ты сможешь родить, ты борешься за него каждый день. Неделями, месяцами, годами. Твоя жизнь движется вперед, но идет по кругу. Каждая неудача отбрасывает тебя назад, ударяя все больнее с каждым разом. Но ты собираешься с силами, встаешь и идешь дальше. С улыбкой на лице, с верой в душе.




За пять лет я теряла надежду столько раз, что сбилась со счета. Мы не говорим много о бесплодии. Бесплодные пары – это тайная группа людей, живущих в секрете, в своем собственном маленьком мире, в котором с каждым годом становится все меньше и меньше людей. А тем временем, одна из восьми пар страдает бесплодием – мужским или женским. 1 из 8! Бесплодие – это болезнь, которая не убивает твое тело, но разбивает на мелкие части твое сердце и рвет на куски твою душу. Ты борешься за свое право быть матерью, не зная, выиграешь ли ты эту битву или нет.




Я вела свою битву почти пять лет. Пять лет! Пятьдесят раз мое тело кидало в меня горькое «нет», добавляя к боли душевной боль физическую. Один раз мое тело подарило мне надежду и тут же убило ее, не сумея выносить малыша. Выкидыш – просто очередной подарок бесплодия.




Но сегодня уже 21 неделю в моем теле живет еще одно маленькое тело, недалеко от моего сердца бьется еще одно сердечко. 152 удара в минуту. Слишком быстро для меня, но в самый раз для малыша. Мой сын. Сын моего мужа. Наш сынок. Наше чудо! Он будет похож на нас и немножко на наших мам. Он прижился в моем теле, как бы оно ни старалось в очередной раз меня предать. Он – маленький воин. Он – моя победа. Он все, что я когда-либо хотела. Он стоит всех слез, всех желаний, всех разочарований. Он соберет по кусочкам мое сердце и склеит мою душу. Шрам останется во мне навсегда – горькое напоминание о падениях и нечеловеческих переживаниях; но он же и будет напоминать о моей силе, вере и настойчивости. Я смогла. Я победила бесплодие!