Monday, February 8, 2010


Without a doubt, February is a very woeful month for me. 2 days from now, it will be exactly one year that I received the news. After 2 years of medical fertility intervention, my first pregnancy was not viable.The baby was growing in my right fallopian tube. I was responsible for creating a precious life and then I was responsible for sweeping it away to save my own. Sign here on the dotted line. I remember every detail as if it were only yesterday. I worry that it will happen again.

As I approach, what doctors consider "advanced maternal age”, I continually weigh my options. I’m faced with the ultimate decision – be happy with life as it is…childless…avoiding more invasive medical procedures and move on with my life. OR, I could start over and try every experimental gynecological procedure under the sun to assist in our child’s conception while I’m still young-ish.

I feel so desperate. I feel as though the rug has been pulled out from under me and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m not eager to be sliced open like a grapefruit. I’m not prepared to put my body through even more medication distress. I’m not satisfied with living a childless life. I’m not ready to compromise.

I fucking hate (unexplained) infertility.

It wasn't my choice. I’m heartbroken.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Maybe If You Just Relax.

People will tell you


Don't try so hard.

Things happen

When you least expect it.


I'm still out there


For the unattainable

Miles and miles from home.

Thursday, June 4, 2009

To IVF or Not To IVF?

...that is the question. Indeed.

DH and I are scheduled to attend an IVF informational session this evening sponsored by the hospital. As it stands, DH and I agree that this is probably not for us. However, I don't want to dimiss something I'm not truly clear on. SO. We reserved our spot for the seminar. It is approx. 2.5 hours long and hopefully will answer most of our questions about the procedure.

I'm still on the fence concerning lap surgery. We recently switched insurance companies at work and found out that they will only pay after our $2500 deductible. Egads. I'm hesitant to have the surgery only to discover that RE can't find anything wrong...on the other hand, what if he does and it can be fixed. Back and forth. Back and forth.

In other news, my sister is coming to visit (YAY!) and we have plans to go to the tattoo shop. I need some touch-up work and my sister's girlfriend is getting something large and fabulous on her arm. I really love when they come to Connecticut! It's always a good time, no matter what we end up doing together. It'll surely be a nice diversion from our everyday worries. Have I mentioned that my sister offered to be a surrogate out-of-the-blue one particular phone conversation? I'll save that juicy bit for another day.

Fare thee well.

Saturday, May 30, 2009

I am Pelé

Leave me be.


A scratchy mantle

Like a shield

Covering my damaged surface ~

Cracked outer shell.

My dome appearance



To crusty cool.

Raging inside.

Million bits bursting



Engulfed in flames

Spitting searing sparks.

Most active

Mountainous perception.

Massive internal swelling,

Nature's course.

Time's indication,

Violent expulsion,

Through that cursed gaping hole.

Down deep

Melting hot

Lava flow

Escaping from caverns below.

Unstoppable river force




Molten Red.

Stress intensity ~

Telltale sign

Towards consistent eruption occurrence.

Immense proportion

Causing great damage

Along its violent pathway

Vaporizing fragile landscape.

All life lost.

Copyright ©2008 Sarah B. Paquette

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

It’s my body and I’ll cry if I want to.

I had my consultation appointment yesterday with RE concerning the options available to me since the ectopic. As it stands, there are (3).

  1. HSG to detect whether my right tube is now blocked from the ectopic. If so, IVF. If not, continue with IUI and hope for the best.
  2. Straight to IVF bypassing tubes altogether.
  3. Laparoscopy to determine if my tubes are blocked, cysts, anything that would prohibit pregnancy…or find nothing wrong at all.

I sat there with my mouth gaping open. In February when my ectopic was diagnosed and needed immediate response, I tried everything in my power to avoid lap surgery to remove my tube. Now, after (2) rounds of the demon methotrexate and my hCG level back to -0-…I’m still under the radar for an invasive procedure that may or may not find anything wrong with my body. An u/s revealed fluid movement around my uterus, so RE is quite sure he will find something awry with my innards.

Needless to say, I’m pretty upset. So upset in fact, I called my mother last night because I really needed someone else’s opinion of what is happening to me. My mother had (4) children of her own so I’m sure it is not easy for her to help me; however, I just wanted to bend someone’s ear and she came to mind. I could barely mouth a full sentence and I broke down in tears on the phone.

I do not like my mother to see/hear me vulnerable for many reasons. However, I really feel desperate. I feel as though the rug has been pulled out from under me and there’s really nothing I can do to change it. I’m faced with the ultimate decision – be happy with life as it is…childless…avoid invasive medical procedures, as I originally intended, and move on. OR, try every experimental gynecological procedure under the sun to help conceive my child while I’m still young-ish.

I’m just not eager to be sliced open like a grapefruit. I’m not prepared to put my body through even more medication distress; I’m not satisfied with living a completely childless life. I’m not ready to compromise. I’m starting to crack under the pressure.

Sunday, May 24, 2009

How Do You Put a Title on Profound Thought?

Name Field: Blank.

Current Status: Blank.

Mood: Blank.

Classification: Blank.

Date: Blank.

I lay on my back with my naked skin touching the crisp paper wrapper. It crinkles and sticks as I shift side-to-side for a more comfortable position. Looking up, I notice the abstract mobile floating aimlessly above my head. Twisting wire is attached to assorted geometric shapes in primary colors of red, blue, and yellow. My eyes focus on the powdery dust that speckles their tops like heather-gray woolen caps.

The white lab coats walk through the heavy wood door and as if by involuntary reflex, my legs automatically spring forth. I slide my ass to the front of the table, rest my navy blue stripe stocking feet into the stirrups, and take a deep breath. Their voices are calm. Their smooth latex hands are cold. A rough cotton sheet covers my knees and thighs. I refuse to look straight ahead. My mind goes completely blank.

My eyes are closed while my other senses amplify. A chilly metal cone-shape gadget is inserted carefully in my open vagina. The mechanism pokes and stretches wide like the skeletal veins of a shoddy umbrella. I clench my fists feeling every slight peck and scrape of the razor tool. Seconds seem like hours. A salty tear slides down my weary face and delicately touches my dry cracked lips.

A maternal voice speaks softly. I nod. It gradually comes out of me, rests on a metal tray, and is traded for another foreign medical object. I can feel the muscles in my abdomen clench as the lubricated condom-covered dildo-like device is inserted deep inside. I squirm. The device swirls within, moving back and forth scanning my innards with high frequency sound so as to detect abnormal growths, rips, blockages, and worse: cancer. I can't see the small screen that projects an image of my womb, but I hear a slight mumbling under faint breath in a language I can't seem to comprehend. I agonize.

My heart beats wildly within the walls of my chest cavity as if it were about to feverishly burst. I wish my husband was holding my hand. I sink well-absorbed into the table's padding as if it were a rectangular pool of water. I am not there in the examination room. My mortal body is.

The tapping of leather soles on expensive footwear resounds throughout the space as if the procedure was occurring in an underground cave. It startles me to awareness. I'm empty and wet. Someone hands me a scratchy square napkin. I use it to blot my face.

It takes all of my strength to lift myself up. The ghostly figures move away and my gaze settles on my husband seated patiently in the corner. I yearn to sit on his lap and curl up into a little fetal ball. My internal clock resumes its instinctive ticking. I reach for the rumpled denim skirt hiding my blood-stained underwear and dress myself in anticipation of my next reproductive assignment. It hits me. Profoundly, we are already dutiful parents in a process of rebirth in our relationship where the initial creator key is due acceptance. What is done now is only the beginning.

"Sarah? This way, please."

Copyright ©2008 Sarah B. Paquette

Friday, May 22, 2009

Mental Gems, Diamond Mind

The weekend before Mother's day, our local tea shop hosted a Victorian tea. Being a small place as it was, I made reservations for my mother-in-law and me to ensure our spot. There would be a woman there, dressed in Edwardian garb, sharing Victorian tea etiquette whilst we ate cucumber finger sandwiches and biscuits and drank delicious teas.

mMmMmMm. Raspberry tea with fresh lemon:

I simply had to make something for the occasion...and in one day designed this necklace in pseudo-Victorian mechanical "steampunk" style. The collage pendant was given to me by an artist ~ I wired the rest of it and added the rusty keys amongst other bits:

I brought the necklace to my next jewelry class and my teacher was quite impressed. She took a photo of it for the student gallery section of her website. To be honest, I'm really happy with how it turned out. Dare I say, I love it! Can I say that?! Anyway, it came out pretty awesome...the little girl on the pendant looks a bit melancholy...I can certainly empathize.

Oh yes! I nearly forgot to mention...there just had to be earrings that matched.

What, oh what, will I do next?