But I actually AM holier than thou

Nobody gets my goat like those Catholics.

Nobody.

You know I am a Catholic, right?

I suppose I take some liberties with the word.  I have said before I consider myself a Catholic, but I am certain there are Catholics out there who would beg to differ - they would say I have no right to call myself a Catholic.

One of the suburbs outside Chicago has a local Catholic church threatening to picket and protest if a new IVF clinic is approved for construction.  No need to link to the story - same old bullshit we have heard before: commoditized children.  A product, not a life.

Clearly these Catholic fools have spent no time actually talking to an infertile family.  The word Product implies it is easy to obtain.  'Yes, please sign me up for one baby.  To go.'

I am here to speak for the Catholic Church.  The one that I belong to; where I consider myself a part of a larger group, reporting up to God who is bigger than the triviality of this post, but here it is anyhow.

I spent many years outside the Catholic Church.  Later as an adult I fell in with a non denominational Christian church.  I got rather geeked up on God.  I attended group bible studies where God was actually something I wanted to learn.  I grew.  I voiced my challenges and settled them with the support of some profoundly brilliant women.  It was a cool time.

No excuses, but then my baby died.  My life was a giant mess.  I would have told God to stick it, but I just didn't care enough to make the effort.  Plus, didn't he know that was what I thought anyhow?

Time passed and I wanted to rebuild the relationship.  I church shopped.  For years.  I did the whole range.  Unitarian to Methodist to Presbyterian to Episcopalian.  More non denominational Christian.  United Church of Christ.  More Episcopalian.  I never once considered returning to the Catholic Church.  A story for another time.

Then God got involved.  Made me share an office with a Catholic at work.

The horror.

I was in the trenches trying to have Baby Jay.  I sure didn't need some snot Catholic coming down on me about my marginalization of life.  Damn if she wasn't my boss too.  More horror.  I had to come clean on the IVF since I was going to miss a lot of work.

Next thing I know, I am learning about God again.  And I am interested.  Huh.  This Catholic is an ally.  She helps me renew my relationship with God.  Pretty heavy.

I talk with Rocco and we decide to open the evaluation up to the Catholics again.  One small issue - they "hate" IVF.  This late entry dark horse of the Catholic Church happened right about the time that the Church came out and said the Nobel Prize awarded to Dr. Edwards, pioneer in IVF, was "misguided".

I call the priest.  Make the appointment.  I am prepared to duke it out with him - what exactly is wrong with my family.  Please help me understand what misguided means cause it is making my blood boil.

You know what he said?

Nothing is wrong.

He asked what is there not to like about a mother willing to pursue her family with such devotion?  He asked me to tell him what part of my story Jesus wouldn't like.

It isn't often I get to speak for Jesus.  Especially to a priest.

I think Catholic is a label only if you make it one.  So yes, Catholics make me really mad, but I am one.

Money that isn't mine

Gah, money and medical procedures.  When will you stop haunting me.

I quit my job.  The terms of our 401k loan are to pay the outstanding balance within 90 days of separation from the firm.  We do have the money to pay off my 401k loan.... cause we are paying it off with Rocco's 401k loan.

I have some money in my bank account in the short term.  A nice, big five figure balance that isn't really mine.  It belongs to the loan.  Yes, technically it is mine, but it is due back in the hands of the loan master, the bank.

It has been burning a hole in my greasy little pocket.

Emmie tore her ACL.  Anyone have any experience with this?  Surgery is the only option and it rolls in at $2100.

I adore her.  She is my original Baby Before the Baby.

Emmie stayed by my side in my bed for 10 days when I didn't get up after the baby died.  I don't remember this time, but my mom did.  Gets me all weepy when I look at Big E.  Good dog.

 

What PAIL gave to me

PAIL.  What a mess, huh?  It pulled off some scabs for me.  

I feel like I have been granted license to open up again.  No one asked me to censor but I did.

I remember my happy frustration when I first started looking for donor egg blogs.  So many of them were "finished" - they were at home with healthy babies.  Quiet blogs.  Infrequent updates.  So very unlike me at the time.

Well hello and welcome to my stale parenting blog.

I didn't want to become that blog.  The one talking about babies and naps and poops.  

I was frustrated by the lack of LIVE ACTION donor egg blogs, but it gave me great comfort.  All these women were getting pregnant!  And taking babies home!

But I still have some shit to sort out.  Anyone who has the heart and time to help me attend to my issues is welcome here.  If you are quietly reading along to form your own plans, you are welcome here.

I am beyond the live action (...for now?).  I have tried to make navigation easier for the new donor egg recipient by listing my milestones.  I am on the other side and now need to dig into some ideas that could hurt to read depending where your heart is day to day.

I don't know if we will transfer another embryo.  

I don't know what agency to use to facilitate the embryo adoption process once our family is complete.

If you are in a place you can read parenting issues that sound down right ungrateful, please stay.  I could use your advice and you can call bullshit when you see it.  If it sucks to read someone with such a divine problem as mine, I understand.

I left a lot of blogs that got pregnant when I wasn't.  I get it.  I sure as hell wouldn't want to read about someone counting her embryos over and over.  I  promise I won't be weighing the benefits of a Gemini over a Libra, but my issues will sound pretty trivial.

All my best every single day,

Roccie