I am going a little bit bonkers. I am "down" to sleeping between 14-15 hours per day (woo hoo! Down from 18 a few weeks ago!!!) and while I am super grateful that I am becoming increasingly able to remain awake for several hour stretches, I am still not terribly mobile yet. I have some physical therapy goals I am working on that are (knock on wood) going to help me regain some physical normalcy, but I know that this kind of effort takes time to produce results. And in the meantime, I am in bed A LOT, even when I am awake.
Although I have access to a TON of incredible books and television shows/films, I find myself going stir crazy for something to do with my hands. My entire body may not be able to move much, so my hands are itching for something to occupy them. I think it is a natural instinct to remain in motion while awake and because my motion is limited, my hands are itching for interesting work. Sometimes I play on my iPad (God bless iPads... seriously) while I am watching television and other times I zentangle/doodle/color. But my main "handy work" of choice is knitting. I LOVE to knit. I have an absurd amount of unused yarn in my "stash" because I just cannot resist gorgeous yarn that is on sale. I have so many projects in my head that it is difficult to remain focused on one at a time. BUT, I have become quite preoccupied with one idea lately that I am resisting for obvious reasons.
I am completely overwhelmed with what truly feels like NEED to make a baby blanket for the jelly bean.
This is dangerous, dangerous territory. Making an intricate baby blanket takes concentration, patience and a great deal of love. Each knitting project I have ever made is marked by whatever emotions have been influencing me at the time of its creation. Making a baby blanket for the jelly bean would be a terribly hopeful endeavor. But a vulnerable one too. On the one hand, knitting a lovely baby blanket takes so much time that it would be "smart" to start it before becoming pregnant. On the other hand, a danger exists that I will start a blanket and pour love into an object for a jelly bean that may never appear. Fertility matters are never certain and my potential pregnancy would be classified as high-risk. I cannot help but think that such a project may be as foolish as it would be hopeful.
Certainly, I could give the blanket full of love to a future niece, nephew or even a stranger's little one if Project Jelly Bean does not end up working out. (Wow. Writing that sentence was really hard.) But that may also be heartbreaking. I really don't know if it makes sense to try. I don't know if producing it would bring me enough joy to counteract how difficult it would be if a jelly bean does not arrive to use it. However, the fact that I have been creating granny square patterns IN MY SLEEP as well as envisioning patterns upon patterns, colors upon colors, yarn upon yarn while I am awake.... and have been doing so for WEEKS... indicates to me that my body (with its impatient fingers), mind and spirit are willing to take the risk.
I shall keep you all posted on what I decide to do. And in the meantime, if you are undertaking any kind of vulnerable, creative work... know that you are brave and that you are not alone. Should you ever need to vent about your endeavor, I am right here and happy to listen.
Saturday, March 26, 2016
Sunday, March 13, 2016
High Risk - High Reward
Hello again. I haven't been writing lately because I have been waiting for the explicitly green light from my rheumatologist that Project Jellybean is a go. And it is now indeed a go, in the sense that I have clearance to try beginning in the fall, pending the approval of a high-risk OB.
I know that it is tempting fate to even write the words "try" and "beginning in the fall." One of the first rules of fertility management is not to ever announce what the hell you are doing and when, (partially because of tempting fate... although no one actually says that out loud for fear of appearing too human) because everyone you tell will nag you and anxiously await updates every five minutes once you start. Fear and pain surrounding fertility matters is "supposed" to be borne alone, or with the aid of quiet Internet communities of women you have never met who are going through the same thing. This is what I have gleaned from books, the Web, friends and experience.
However, I feel like it is important for me specifically (other women may truly benefit from the ways things are usually done and I do not judge that one bit. Truly, truly, truly) to live out loud in regards to this particular process, given that it may facilitate connection, vulnerability and humanity. So, defying convention, I am announcing that I finally have a green light for Project Jellybean.
The plan is to have my first appointment with a high-risk OB in April and to have all the low-dose chemo and other severely toxic drugs cleared out of my system by August 1. I will then need to wean off my pain meds and some other medications before we can try. This, for obvious reasons, scares the living hell out of me. I am already dealing with one of the most severe daily pain loads I have had since diagnosis and have been so sick for the past few months that the very act of accomplishing a shower is a triumph. To wean off nearly all of my pain meds on top of all the toxic things keeping me going is SCARY. But, if we want to have a jellybean in this lifetime (and God knows I only get one lifetime), it must be done.
So, I am back. And that is a blessing. I am currently trying to stem my anxiety at the prospect of this process and to simply be grateful that I have the clearance to undertake it. Binge-watching "Downton Abbey" and reading like crazycakes seems to help me keep my mind as settled as can be. God bless awesome books and television. I honestly don't know who I would be without access to so much creative storytelling!
I know that it is tempting fate to even write the words "try" and "beginning in the fall." One of the first rules of fertility management is not to ever announce what the hell you are doing and when, (partially because of tempting fate... although no one actually says that out loud for fear of appearing too human) because everyone you tell will nag you and anxiously await updates every five minutes once you start. Fear and pain surrounding fertility matters is "supposed" to be borne alone, or with the aid of quiet Internet communities of women you have never met who are going through the same thing. This is what I have gleaned from books, the Web, friends and experience.
However, I feel like it is important for me specifically (other women may truly benefit from the ways things are usually done and I do not judge that one bit. Truly, truly, truly) to live out loud in regards to this particular process, given that it may facilitate connection, vulnerability and humanity. So, defying convention, I am announcing that I finally have a green light for Project Jellybean.
The plan is to have my first appointment with a high-risk OB in April and to have all the low-dose chemo and other severely toxic drugs cleared out of my system by August 1. I will then need to wean off my pain meds and some other medications before we can try. This, for obvious reasons, scares the living hell out of me. I am already dealing with one of the most severe daily pain loads I have had since diagnosis and have been so sick for the past few months that the very act of accomplishing a shower is a triumph. To wean off nearly all of my pain meds on top of all the toxic things keeping me going is SCARY. But, if we want to have a jellybean in this lifetime (and God knows I only get one lifetime), it must be done.
So, I am back. And that is a blessing. I am currently trying to stem my anxiety at the prospect of this process and to simply be grateful that I have the clearance to undertake it. Binge-watching "Downton Abbey" and reading like crazycakes seems to help me keep my mind as settled as can be. God bless awesome books and television. I honestly don't know who I would be without access to so much creative storytelling!
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