While at my sister’s, I read Lisa Manterfield’s I’m Taking My Eggs and Going Home:  How One Woman Dared to Say No to Motherhood (one of the gift’s I received).  Reflecting on her experience emboldened me to describe why My Man and I decided to not adopt as part of a larger discussion with my brother-in-law’s family.  I was very matter-of-fact about the whole thing, and got some interested questions.  I mean–what the heck?  I had just patiently and cheerfully listened to an hour-long discussion on child-rearing.  I also think that some people close to us are wondering about our decision, but are too polite to ask.  Regardless, it felt good. Our experience is just as valid and legitimate as those with children, and I felt proud that I took myself seriously enough to risk including our angle.

An early January hike with My Man and Elroy

I am grateful for:

Smart Wool socks.  Generally, I do not have trouble keeping warm–with hot flashes and all–but, if my feet get cold all bets are off.  I appreciate my Smart Wool socks several times a day.  They are made of Merino wool, so they are not scratchy and feel oh so good on my feet.  By the way, if you are in the market for a holiday gift, these could be your ticket.  May I suggest crew or 3/4 crew height and medium cushion?

Our boy Elroy.  Here is a picture of him as a puppy.  He has bandages on his back legs because his dew claws were removed shortly before I rescued him.  His boundless enthusiasm, energy, and affection light up our lives.

My Man.  We have been married for almost 11 years, and have survived job changes, several moves,  family member and pet losses, my illness and hysterectomy, and much more.  I adore his sexy phone voice, his fine taste in wine, his thoughtfulness and generosity, his loyalty to friends and family, his sense of humor, his cute boyish looks, and the way he still looks at me, and more, of course.

Our lake property.  We recently purchased 5 acres of lake-front land about an hour and a half from where we live.  Here is a picture of some of it and our architect.  Someday we will build a small storybook cottage here.  For now, we pitch a tent overlooking the lake where we can hide from the evening mosquitoes and listen to the loons in the early morning.

My job.  I feel incredibly fortunate to have had the opportunity to return to research in a biochemistry lab after teaching high school chemistry for 12 years.  Now, I loved teaching too.  I had some amazing students, many of whom I still remain in contact through Facebook.  I was selected as Teacher of the Year (the only one of two to ever be selected at that school as far as I know) and was christened “Doc Has.”  My reason for returning to research is a topic for a whole other post, but suffice it to say, life in the lab has been awesome.  My colleagues are fun, supportive, hard working, bright, and make the worst days better than pleasant.

My friends and family–from my hairdresser to my identical twin sister, D.  My sister D is just a phone call away, and I know she will understand my situation with just a few words from me.  We have been through so much together, and she will always be my partner in crime.  She is the one who rescued me from Endometriosis/Adenomyosis/Fibroid hell when after an unfortunate year of writhing pain, bad doctors, and Lupron, she convinced me to see her doctor several states away, who eventually performed my hysterectomy and restored my sanity.

Music.  I am not sure I could survive without music.  I love my internet radio stations, Slacker and Radioio.  Radioio’s Eclectic station was my introduction to internet radio, and over the years has introduced me to a plethora of new artists who have added dimensions to my life.  I am so addicted to internet radio that I bought a portable speaker that plays my stations via Bluetooth from my cell phone in my car.  My car is a 2001 Honda Insight that still gets 55 mpg and was my first brand new car, but due to its age, does not get satellite radio, so my hodge-podge speaker/Bluetooth/cell phone system works for me.  I also have a Logitech Squeezebox hooked up to our home stereo system so I can listen to Slacker or Radioio while I cook and/or when we entertain.

Books and the Internet.  Wow, what can I say?  Through books and the internet I can explore whole other worlds.  I read regularly (I am currently reading The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh, which I recommend), and reading can almost be as good as a lovely vacation–on second thought, maybe I am overstating my love of books a bit, but you get what I mean…

Therapy.  My emotional toolbox has many more tools in it than it did when I first left home as a teenager.  These tools allow me the ability to maneuver and navigate tricky terrain with skill.  I have choices that I didn’t even know existed pre-therapy (are choices really choices if you don’t know they exist?).

I am grateful for everything on this list and so much more.  There have been some really dark moments, but they have been definitely out-numbered by stupendous moments of sheer joy.

You may be wondering where I am going with all of this… At the risk of sounding effusive or redundant (because I have already said similar things on my “More About Me” and “Why Beef Princess?” pages), I have to say I am incredibly grateful for this blog and the comments people are leaving on it and the blogs of all of the other women I regularly read.  I am not sure I even realized how lonely and disenfranchised I felt until the flood of relief that hit and engulfed me recently.  I am so damned glad I got up the gumption to start commenting on other blogs and start my own blog.  As we all know most people just “don’t want to hear about IT”—IT being taboo subjects like, but certainly not limited to, infertility, miscarriage, illness, hysterectomy, (not that I want to hear about others go on and on about their pregnancy, kids, grand kids, pregnancy either, but at least the folks who want to discuss those topics will easily find some company, whereas it’s generally more difficult for folks wanting to discuss the taboo subjects).

So, although a part of me is still often sad, another part of me is elated and utterly Thankful.

“Childless not by choice” doesn’t seem to quite fit.  After all, we could adopt a child if we really wanted to…but perhaps, “Childless by Exhaustion” is a better phrase.  I am so curious—does anyone else have any ideas for a phrase that fits?  If so, please suggest…

With that being said, I recently did a walk for Breast Cancer Research.  I was not thrilled about going–at all.  But spurred on by knowing that I was meeting up with some of my dear colleagues, I propelled myself out the door on an early Sunday morning.  Chatting it up as we strolled, I found myself declaring that I was finally going to do it:  I was finally going to start working out.  I was going to start small, but do-able.  20 minutes a day on my Nordic track.  I elicited the help from one of my dear colleagues.  I asked her to inquire every day to see if I had followed through on my mission.  I needed additional Motivation.

So began my Nordic track quest.  I bought my Nordic track on EBay for a couple of hundred dollars about 9 years ago.  The little computer gadget no longer works, but since the rest of it is not too sophisticated, it is still operational.  It lives in a corner of my huge refinished basement, by two windows that overlook my wooded backyard.  I have sporadically used my Nordic track, listening to music, but quickly getting bored with the whole idea.

Somehow, there was shift in my attitude.  Maybe it was seeing how healthy some of the runners looked at the Breast Cancer Run/Walk.  Maybe it was the recognition that I didn’t feel so great lately–I was getting stiff–like the Tin Man without his oil.  I was feeling old and flabby and lethargic. Maybe I am starting to forgive my body for letting me down on the baby front.  At any rate, I weaved my Nordic track quest into my morning routine, right between the first cup of Earl Grey tea and my second cup with Greek yogurt and granola.

Now mind you, my gym teachers did way more to discourage me from physical exercise than encourage me.  I am plagued with memories of having my glasses flung across the room after getting whacked forcefully by the rubber ball in dodge ball, when I could no longer successfully hide behind some other kid.  Or waiting and waiting to be “picked” for a team.  I learned patience, but not a love of sports, because I was usually the last to be picked.  I am not athletic or especially coordinated, and after being humiliated repeatedly, I tend to shy away from most athletic activities altogether.

But despite all of that, I am doing it; every day, I am pounding away on my Nordic track.  And for the most part, I enjoy it.  I actually enjoy it.  It is some “me” time, where I am alone with my thoughts.  And I feel better, I am not longer carrying a bunch of stress around in my body, and I don’t feel so stiff.  I have hope that things will get better because I know I can change.

What about you?  What are your thoughts on hope and change?