Friday, May 14, 2010

A Guest Post by Nice Jewish Guy

Cross Posted from my now-defunct blog, Attention Frumster Shoppers:

(Creeeeak.......)

(Scuff scuff....)

Hello..? {O...O... O...)

Anybody here...? (ere... ere... ere...)

(Looking around)......

Boy, sure smells musty in here. Been a while, hasn't it? Let me drag over this crate here- dust it off a bit- and set a spell.

Well, folks, I'm back. But only to wrap things up; I think it's important to have.. closure. A good word. It's been about a year and change since we've last had a shmooze, and, well- a lot's been happening. Good things, mainly. And that's what I'm here to tell you about.

I'm engaged! She's a wonderful woman. (I wanted to say girl, but hey, we're adults here, with, you know- jobs. ) We have been dating for over a year. I'm a little freaked- hey, I did this once before, and to say that things didn't turn out so great would have been an understatement- but not, as friend and blogger WebGirl says, nauseated and panicky.

I didn't blog at all about Future Mrs. NJG while we were dating; partly because I lost my inlclination to exhibit myself, even anonymously (or quasi-anonymously), and my activities. I didn't feel like I wanted to put everything under the blogging microscope, talk it all out with myself as I was writing. I just wanted to live it.

It wasn't an easy decision to make, but you know what? It wasn't that difficult either. It's been six years since my first marriage fell apart, and about five and a half since my get- and well, higiya zman-- it's time. Time to move on, rebuild, and begin the next chapter. I guess I'm getting some maturity, huh? Gosh, when did that happen.

Oh, look at the time. So much to do... anyway, I guess I'll leave the blog up, but this will be the last post here. The store is closed. No more Frumster Shopping, or any other kind. You might find me posting over at The Road Taken, so, keep an eye out.

So, that's all, folks. You're welcome to hang around, visit from time to time if you like. Just mind the dust and cobwebs.

And remember to shut the lights and door on your way out.

(Scuff.. scuff...)

(Creeeak...)

(Thump.)

GREAT NEWS!

Mazel tov to Nice Jewish Guy who is (gulp) engaged!  Yes!  Another fabulous frum single guy bites the proverbial dust.

Stay tuned for a long-awaited post over at Attention Frumster Shoppers (and perhaps we can convince him to post here in parallel, if you cajole him a bit).

Mazel tov, NJG.  It's been quite a journey, hasn't it.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Mother's Day

I think it was Mother's Day that finally got to me.  I've been holding it together until now.  One unsuccessful IVF cycle behind us, and while I'm pretty despondent, I haven't quite lost it yet.  We're planning on doing another cycle and this time, I'm going to turn on the spiritual spiggot all the way.   Praying, Tehillim, taking on extra mitzvot, asking other people to pray for us, praying for other couples struggling with infertility, etc.  We are focusing like laser beams.  I cried briefly when the first IVF cycle failed, and then I gathered myself up and said, ok, done crying, we're trying it again; what can we do differently this time; focus focus focus.  We are focused, we are beams of light, we have our eyes on the target, our ears to the grounds, our noses to the grindstone, our heads in the oven...

And still, no matter what transpired, I didn't lose it, wouldn't, refused to, not me.  Not even when my friend who was aware of what happened invited us for a Shabbos meal and promised it would be just us two couples and ended up having the other family with six raucous kids and the wife who would not stop talking about her children.  No, not even when another friend who is a year older than I am shouted over the phone "Mazel tov, I'm a grandmother!" in completely oblivious, well-deserved joy.  I held it together.  I kept it in.  I'm a trooper. I'm focusing on the positive, not dwelling on the negative.  I'm a laser beam.

But Mother's Day, for non-mothers is, well, challenging.  And I lost it.

"Do not, under any circumstances, log in to Facebook today," my husband warned me.  So of course, I did.  And FB was brimming with well-wishes and love, happy MDay proclamations, links, pictures of outings and luncheons and thank yous for the crayon cards and breakfasts in bed and shmeary, shmutzy hugs and kisses.  The world is full of mothers and children and spilling over with babies and diapers and formula and today, today is the party that celebrates the sacrifices that I will probably never get to make, the love and connections that I will probably never feel, the babies that will probably never be mine.  Today is the party to which I'll probably never be invited.  This Mother's Day, I am feeling the nasty twisty scorching pain of unmotherhood more than usual.  And so I lost it.  "I guess it's about time" said my husband as I fell hysterically, completely and totally apart in his arms.

Well.  All better now.  No, not really.  But we are trying again soon.  We are not yet in that abyss of hopelessness, but we are certainly tottering on the brink.

It's funny that going through this really does make you feel a little closer to God.  A little angrier perhaps, but still, there's a closeness, a dveykus there that wasn't there before.  I feel very helpless, like He is propping me up and therethereing me along.  Other friends of mine that have gone through assisted reproduction have had similar experiences.  One friend of mine, Eva, told me "I remember that when I was going through IVF, I felt very, very close to God and I am not really that type of person.  And now, years later, I can't really attain that kind of closeness again, but sometimes when I want it, I say to God 'God, remember back then, when I felt so close to You? Remember what that was like?' and just being able to even refer to that time is enough for me."  It's interesting what this sort of thing does to your psyche.  You introspect all the time.   It's exhausting and a little nice.  I read about the women in the Tanach that struggled with infertility, Sarah, Rachel, Chana, and I feel connected and strengthened through their stories.  My infertility has undone and remade me, sea-changed me.

And so we are trying again soon.  And because of this past cycle's failure, we are more able to comprehend that it might not work, that as unacceptable as it might be, we need to accept that we might not become parents.  And we are still hoping and praying that God changes His mind and remembers us, but we are a little closer to accepting that if He doesn't, there is simply nothing that we can do about it and we need to live and move on.  But I still hope, and I still believe there is a chance, no matter how small.  "Yeshuas Hashem k'heref ayin."   God can save you in the blink of any eye.  And as we cling to that last little gasping molecule of hope, we are slowly, quietly moving through our grief.