Category Archives: Infertility

That Time When You Realize You’re Almost 32…

Shit. I’m less than 6 months to 32. That’s not quite old but it certainly not young. And while I’ve saved up a decently sizable portfolio of investments over the course of my 31 and a half years, every day I freak out more regarding how I’m quickly watching the opportunity to have children disappear before my eyes. Yes, women can have kids later and later these days, but with my PCOS-crapified ovaries I know getting and staying pregnant is going to be a total bitch and damn expensive if not impossible.

There is no way in hell that I could work in a job like the one I have now and deal with getting pregnant. At least when you have kids they’re these physical creatures you can talk about with others and offer as a reason to work from home on occasion in order to deal with the whole biological needs of being a mother with infants. When you’re trying to get pregnant and not having any organic luck, then you have to deal with tons of doctors appointments and the crazy of hormone injections and such that mess with your mind. Yes, people do this all the time but I’m sure working for a startup makes it a heck of a lot harder. And I don’t think I’d ever see an occasion where I’d feel comfortable explaining to my current boss that I need to take some time during the day to go to a series of doctors appointments in order to get knocked up. That’s personal, and I would want it to stay personal.

While I’m not looking to get pregnant today, the reality is that I DO want to be married by next June (12 months) and very shortly thereafter want to begin the process of trying to have kids. I’ll be 32-and-a-half (holy shit) and in order to have my first kid by 34, well, that doesn’t leave a heck of a lot of time. Mr. HECC needs to hurry up and propose to me (hoping that’s happening in next 30 days because now we’re at the 9 year mark and we’ve generally both agreed on the get-married-and-have-kids timeline) and we just need to move on with our lives. I’m perplexed at how I can be 31 with a job making over $150k a year and a networth approaching $350k and I still feel so terribly lost and behind. I have a job, not a career, no matter what it looks like from the outside – and a boyfriend who might as well be my husband but who isn’t – because I’ve been so preoccupied with not being like those girls who just get married in their 20s because that’s what they think they ought to do.

And on top of all this, I am seriously considering grad school now more than ever – because this whole situation of just taking jobs that I can get versus jobs that I’m actually capable of being good at is absolutely draining every ounce of my being. I’m learning a shit ton and there are many aspects of my role that I like too, but it’s just not for me over the long term. I’m so grateful that the few people I have on my team are rockstars and helping me stay somewhat sane, but nonetheless that isn’t a career I can maintain even for a few more years. I need to make changes and I need to make changes fast in order to at least make a significant attempt at having a family, which at the end of the day is way more important to me than becoming a millionaire in my 40s.

So now that I have that straight, it definitely changes my priorities and plans. What kind of career can I have where I can – instead of being at the office 10 hours a day not including commute – spend time at home and be able to be a part of my potential future children’s lives? What job can I do where I can live a somewhat standard middle class life and be able to afford a house with a porch and a backyard… one that I can watch my children run around in? If my 20s were the years where I just wandered blindly and tried my best to save and save some more, my 30s are a time to open my eyes and just accept that being in the upper middle class, like I was as a child, isn’t necessarily the only option or a real route to happiness. So what if I’m squarely in the middle class? Did endless trips to the suburban shopping malls actually make me a happier person? Did my parents putting me through a private college for four years set me up for more success then I would have had if I went to a state school on scholarship and loans? Yes, it made it possible for me to take more risks then I might have if I didn’t have the cushion, but maybe those risks were bad ones to begin with. Maybe those risks are the ones that got me to almost 32, unwed and looking at a likely barren future.

Of all the things I freak out about, having kids and being able to have kids is something that I think I have a right to worry about. There is a such thing as a biological clock and time is FLYING by. I’m grateful to at least have the man who I see being the father to my children in my life, and for that to be an extremely stable relationship – but who cares if I’m going to be a 33-year-old newly wed and facing years of expensive, painful, and otherwise inconvenient infertility treatments? Being a woman IS different than being a guy – especially one in their late 20s / early 30s. Guys don’t have to rush into having kids – and guys don’t have to stab themselves with hormones in order to attempt to get pregnant, going to the doctor for many appointments in order to conceive and then engage in an entirely new series of doctors visits for ensuring the baby is born healthy and all… not to mention all that stuff that comes with being a mother once you give birth. And if you want more than one kid — well, so long to career progression in your 30s.

But do I really care? I don’t exactly have my heart set on becoming CMO – and what that entails. Is the American Dream working so hard until the day you retire that you don’t see your kids grow up, or have time to enjoy any hobbies or other moments in life that don’t involve soothing client worries or generating more business? I hate admitting that part of me wishes I were born at a time when these choices were made for me. What a terrible feminist. But it’s hard to be everything. Well, it’s not possible to be everything. And I am really, honestly, over dramatically and extremely terrified of believing time wouldn’t progress quite so rapidly if I chose to ignore it – and that my own ability to be a functioning woman wouldn’t be sidetracked by attempting to get ahead in a career where I’m yet another broken cog in an otherwise malfunctioning machine that will spin on and on and on whether or not I happen to be there to fill my little place in it.

 

 

Thinking about motherhood a lot lately…

It’s not just that most of my friends have children that is on my mind lately – it’s that their children are very quickly growing up. I didn’t feel so behind with my friends having tiny babies that could only communicate in screams and silence, but now my friend’s kids are bouncing around all over the place, building up their personalities, laughing and making out a few words. A few of my friends are even on their second child. I’m 31, childless, by choice, but it won’t be by choice for long.

I didn’t grow up knowing I wanted to be a mother. But now that I’m in a long-term relationship of nearly 9 years, I’m ready. I mean, I’m really ready – as ready as I’ll ever be. But the reality is that I’m not even engaged yet. If I get engaged in early 2015, which I think I will, I won’t be married until late 2016, after I turn 33. As I’ve written about before, having children is going to be challenging and require some form of medical intervention due to having severe PCOS. Who knows if I even can have kids? It may be impossible. What will hurt most is finding out that it might have not been impossible if only I didn’t wait so long…

There’s a growing part of me that wants to skip this marriage thing altogether and jump to having children, or at least trying to. Marriage seems unnecessary these days – and, as I’ve written about before, actually costs more in the long run from a tax perspective and makes life even less affordable. Perhaps marriage itself is not a necessity anymore. I’d like to be married, but I don’t need to be. I feel, at this point, I do need to have children. That’s more important. I want to build my family before it’s too late.

My boyfriend is aware of this, and he wants kids as well. We’ve both discussed 1-2 years as the timeframe for having children. The marriage stuff is where it gets tricky. It requires 1-1.5 years of planning. Not that I really am ready, ready to have a baby today – as in, I couldn’t imagine keeping my current job after giving birth, and I’d like to remain in my job for at least two years if possible. But… I go back and forth… because I’d like children, and by children I mean 2-3 kids, and if I wait any longer it’s just going to be harder to have one, let alone a pair or trio.

I feel like I also have no one to talk to about this. I bring it up with my boyfriend and he says we’ve already discussed it and there’s no use rehashing, in so many words. A peep of this to my parents and I get an earful that I’m waiting too long to begin with. My friends who already have kids and who are sleep deprived aren’t interested in hearing my minor jealousy. So I blog about this topic a lot because I just have no one to share these feelings with. And I’m really starting to get scared — life is buzzing by so quickly and I just don’t want to let it blur before my eyes without having the opportunity to build my family. Yes, adoption and such is always an option, but like so many other women out there I would much prefer to give birth to my own children. I’m not sure if I’d ever adopt. But I’ll cross that bridge when the time comes.

It’s just crazy to me how when you turn 30 you’re suddenly, well, old, in terms of your biological clock. Nowadays our 20s are more or less thought of as time to find ourselves, to explore, to grow up – and then boom, you’re 30, or you’re 31, and then… you have 10 years to get your shit together before you’re freaking forty and you’re a full-on grown-up entering middle age. So, I have ten years, or less, to have all my children, if I’m going to have any, and figure out how to balance some form of work life and personal life. I’m terrified of moving too fast and even more so moving too slow. I put all of my energy into work because I have to right now, that’s my focus, but I can see focusing on that for so long that I just run out of time to have a family. I feel like I might have my priorities mixed up.

Focus, Time, and the Brevity of Life

There isn’t a day that goes by when I lack a sense of overwhelm and impending doom. That’s just my style. A lot of this is knotted up in a series of paranoid internal monologues that repeat ad nausem echoing off the corners of my mind.  Yet there’s some reality to the panic. Time isn’t a fake out. It’s this real, visceral, constantly moving stream of invisible life force which makes our bodies wither as the clock of the world ticks on with or without us. Time is the most real of all – because you can’t make more of it, once it’s gone it’s gone.

Today I visited two of my good friends who are both now parents and either my age or younger. A few friends back on the east coast have had their second children already. And I’m turning 31 in a smidgen over a month. The reality is that given my PCOS issues it’s going to be challenging to have kids of my own. Yet today I want them more than ever. The longer I wait the harder it will likely be. But when is the right time? My career is finally starting to take off. If I were to have a child now I don’t have the foggiest how I could also work my job. Well, it would surely be impossible to commute four hours a day and fly at a moment’s notice as a new mother. But would I even want that as my toddler grows from 1 to 2, 2 to 3, and enters his or her own childhood without a mother around?

Clearly I’ll have to work if/when I have kids. I never though I wouldn’t have to and it’s fine to be a working mother and all. I’m fortunate that my boyfriend is more than willing to be a stay-at-home dad. Still… I just worry about waiting too long. I know, I know, it’s not the end of the world if I can’t have kids, or if I only have one child… but I just want two or three children. Probably two though I feel like three is a good large enough family without being too large. And while that’s a nice thought the likelihood of it happening is shrinking by the day.

So my boyfriend and I should be getting married in spring 2016 when I’ll be 32 and a half. I mean… that’s getting old. Let’s just say I have trouble getting pregnant because I probably will. IVF clinics won’t even seriously consider you for treatment until you’ve been trying to get pregnant for a year with no luck. So that gets me to 33-and-a-half. And who knows if I can get pregnant or how fast – even with the best treatment out there. And that treatment is expensive and can quickly burn through the savings that I’m working so hard to build up so I can afford what happens after I have kids.

With this scenario I’ll be lucky if I’m pregnant by 34 and have my first kid at 35. I really would like at least two kids if I’m going to have one. But then that leaves me at being a new mother at 35 going on 36 and knowing that I need to try immediately to have my second kid… all while being the breadwinner of the household and attempting to not only keep my job but grow in my career and move into a serious management position. I just can’t make sense of it. It all makes me think that if I actually do want kids – the logical thing to do would be to say screw “marriage” (which I’m not sure makes sense anyway due to the tax penalties) and just start trying to have my first kid now. I mean, that would suck in terms of work, but it’s not like I’d get pregnant tomorrow. But if I start trying at 31… that leaves me eligible for IVF at 32… and that timeframe just looks a whole lot better. If I have my first kid at 33 I can have my second at 35 or 36 and if I decide I do want a third then I have time for it, or at least I can just have two without feeling incredibly rushed.

I just think it’s so crazy how fast time goes by… and how judgmental I’ve been of all the girls who got married young and had kids in their 20s. That’s what the uneducated people do, I thought, brushing off their happiness with a reminder to myself that I’m getting my shit together first, saving up a good amount of money, preparing myself to be ready for kids. Well, it might not be too late yet but time is definitely running out. My 20s disappeared in the blink of an eye and my 30s will surely be equally as fast paced. With the amount I plan to work and focus on my career it will be easier to forget to focus on the things that matter in life and just running ahead blinded to the truth.

The whole marriage and wedding thing is just for show, what really matters is family… a family that I maybe already have waited too long to have, or at least one that is going to take a whole lot of headache and heartache to make possible. And I’m terrified of that journey that is to come.

Motherhood Costs Women $250,000

This post is about being a modern working woman and the challenges that go into motherhood versus deciding not to have children. It was inspired by a dinner I had tonight with four women in their 40s and 50s who had decided to (or were unable to) have their own children. At the same time, my boyfriend was at our good friend’s house for the first viewing of their new child, which I missed out on. To top it off, of course today is the first mother’s day of my 30s, inspiring some soul seeking of my own.

Did you know that women who chose to have children give up $250,000 in lifetime income? According to a new report by The National Bureau of Economic Research, while the costs to raise children continue to grow, the income opportunities for working women who have them suffer immensely, especially for those of us in the higher income brackets.

“Our findings strongly indicate that the wage costs of childbearing are vastly higher for high-skill women, that these wage penalties persist over time, and that having children later may reduce, but will not eliminate the significant lifetime costs of childbearing for higher skill women,” write researchers Elizabeth Ty Wilde, Lily Batchelder and David T. Ellwood. Continue reading

There’s Logic to this Depression

I hate making every other post about my mental health situation (you don’t believe me, do you?), but everything seems to tie back to that these days. Some spans of time are better than others, but overall this deep sense of panic is inescapable. I’m not being overly dramatic, it is just what I’m feeling at the moment. So I write about it. It’s better than some other ways to deal with it, anyway.

That said, I could focus on doing things like meditating — recommended to me by both my doctor and therapist — to help calm down and feel centered — but ultimately I’m just grabbing at loose ends here. So I’m depressed. Clearly. I’m just lost. On the days that end in massive amounts of tears and gasping for air, looking for a way out, I just try, to the best of my ability, to pull the pieces together and give myself the positive reinforcement required to shut my eyes, clear my head, and face another day. It’s not that bad, but then it is. You know?

Turning 30 has been harder than I expected for me. Besides the whole biological clock – going-to-be-really-really-hard-to-have-kids-thanks-PCOS – situation, I’ve run into some new medical issues. Nothing life-threatening so far, knock on wood, but things that seem to swing into play at a certain age and genetic disposition. Not to be all TMI (isn’t that the point of this blog) but my mother and grandmother have GERD and apparently I now have it too (if you don’t know what that is and really want to know, be my guest and look it up, but anyway it’s not fun. A whole new diet and a pill should help.) Yeay for being/getting old* (*not to offend anyone older than 30! Trust me I’ll be there soon as well.) Continue reading

What is the Ideal Age to Have Children?

So you want a baby? Do you want to shell out $250k over the next 18 years to support that child, or would you rather buy yourself a Ferrari. Ok, so probably most of us would prefer an addition to our families than a car if the option were presented, but the actual cost of having the child is not what concerns me.

I’d like to better understand what will happen when I have a kid. Today I think I’d want to be a working mother, but given I grew up with a stay-at-home mother there will be plenty of times when that choice will leave me upset over the lack of being able to go to my kid’s school events or support them with homework. There are options with more flexible careers, for sure, but usually those options require giving up a larger salary, benefits, and stability for the coveted flexible lifestyle for any young parent. Continue reading

I Hear My Biological Clock Ticking, Ring Ting Tingling Too…

So it happened. I turned 29 without much fanfare and now I’m already nearly a month into my last year before my 30s. Time just disappears, and I imagine I’ll be 40 in the blink of an eye.

What is really starting to bother me lately is how I’m at prime child bearing age right now, and I’m not even married. I’ve always wanted to save up and have $250k in the bank before procreating (and ideally have a husband who had saved at least half of that) but here I am, nearing 30, with $200k in the bank and a potential husband with nothing saved. That said, how many people have kids with less than $200k saved up, or who have loads of debt? Many people do. In fact it’s the people who don’t have money that often have a lot of kids early. Those of us with good salaries wait until our biological clock has run out.

The New Republic author Judith Shulevitz published a cover story on “The Greyest Generation” this past week, which highlights this problem with society.

“American first-time mothers have aged about four years since 1970—as of 2010, they were 25.4 as opposed to 21.5. That average, of course, obscures a lot of regional, ethnic, and educational variation. The average new mother from Massachusetts, for instance, was 28; the Mississippian was 22.9. The Asian American first-time mother was 29.1; the African American 23.1. A college-educated woman had a better than one-in-three chance of having her first child at 30 or older; the odds that a woman with less education would wait that long were no better than one in ten.”

So the more white you are, the later you are going to have kids. But the scary part is the average child bearing age, on the high end, is 29. That’s my age. So no matter what I’ll be pulling up the average at this point. Apparently Advanced Material Age starts at 35. It doesn’t help that I have PCOS and my eggs are already defective. Who knows if I could have kids now even if I tried… and waiting more years is just going to reduce the possibilities. Sure, I could adopt, and maybe I’ll change my mind on this when the time comes, but I really want my own kids, or no kids at all. I guess I’m just selfish like that.

Right now, many of my friends are pregnant or already have had at least one kid. Some of these friends are younger than me by a year or two. This is no longer the batch of friends who gave birth in their early 20s because their entire life goal was to have children and they were content refraining from a serious professional mission prior to procreating. This is the group of friends who are having kids at the “normal age” to have a first kid, 28-32. But I’ll be lucky if I’m married at 31.

There are days when I wonder if I even want children. After all, the freedom of being able to work late and early in order to ensure my professional success is something I take for granted now, but I wouldn’t be able to do that with kids. I’d certainly feel responsible for giving my children a life as least as good as the one I had growing up (which will be a challenge if I were to work since my mother was a full time housewife.)

I’m just terrified of what happens when I hit 33, 34 or 35 and my then husband and I start trying to have a kid. What if I can’t? What if the doctor looks at me and says point blank “it would have been possible when you were 29. I’m sorry, but your eggs are all broken now.”

I’m not being overly dramatic. This can happen to a woman with PCOS even at 35. So I’ve thought about freezing my eggs now, but that process seems challenging when you have a full time job, not to mention expensive. And who knows if that will work. If I start trying to have kids at 33, maybe this isn’t that big of a deal. But what if my future husband and I don’t get around to it until 35 or later? And how about having more than one kid (I want 2 or 3. I think it’s important for kids to have siblings. Plus I like the idea of a mid-sized family.)

I was joking with my boyfriend the other day that I’m going to go to a sperm bank and attempt to have a kid now. Well, I was mostly joking. It’s tempting to think about taking matters into my own hands. Of course, he was not ok with that plan. He does want to have kids with me and get married. He’s definitely the father type. I just am so scared that by the time we get around to trying, we’ll face a painful journey of nothing but failure.

Forget Marriage, She Wants a Baby… or Two… or Three

In 18 months, less than two years away, I’ll be turning 30. While 30 doesn’t feel old, it does send stabbing pangs into my head regarding my biological clock. With PCOS, it’s already ticking faster than most other women, and it may very well be too late to have my own children. Even though I don’t necessarily want to be a mom today, I don’t not want to be a mom ever.

Yes, there are plenty of ways, such as adoption, to have children if you cannot reproduce because you’re too old or infertile, but a tiny, fast-growing part of me wants my own kids. I guess ultimately I feel like the purpose of life — if you choose to believe in a purpose — is to reproduce. Not everyone can do it and it’s not good for everyone to do it because of overcrowding. If I really wanted to not be selfish (unless you ask my mother) I’d avoid childbearing and help reduce the taxing on the environment of yet another human being.

Forgetting logic, though, I really do want to be a mother. Still, I’m terrified for so many reasons…

  • Will I be a good mother?
  • Am I just attracted to the idea of children because I feel like life has no purpose?
  • Can someone like myself actually be a mom? I can barely mange myself!
  • Will I regret having children because I’m terrible at commitments and this is something that clearly you can’t go back on…???
  • What about money? How are you going to afford kids? Yes, you’ve managed to save up $180k in investments and savings, and have a stock package that has a small tiny chance of being worth enough to put you over the $1M networth mark by 40, but raising kids is extremely expensive, and with small houses costing $1.2M, can you really ever give your children the life you want to give them, instead of one that leads you to debt?
  • Wouldn’t you just be better off continuing to work throughout your life and saving money?

Then, I remind myself that there are plenty of people who make much less than I do, and heck, are probably less responsible than I am, who have a child, or a few of them. That’s not to say they should or that gives me a right to go off and reproduce, but it gives me courage that I’m probably not going to be the worst mother on earth. I already know that I have so much love to give and have been waiting my own life to have someone or someones to give that love to.

I’ve been reading a lot of posts online about mothers who regret having children. Most complain about having no time in their lives to do the things they enjoyed — travel, go to galleries, hang out with friends, read a book — and it so happens I don’t have the time for that now with my work schedule, so I can’t imagine I’d miss too much. I’m sure it would be extremely hard for the first few years of having children and I can’t even begin to imagine what it would be like, but at the very least I feel pretty confident that I’m tired of freedom in my life and want something to life for.

It doesn’t help matters that so many of my friends are posting photos of their adorable first or second children — just born — with big eyes staring out at the world, so innocent and pure. I feel so confused looking at these images — part jealously, part awe, part horrified of what that means. Life is going by so quickly — I return home to my family a few times a year and each time I’m there everyone looks like they’ve aged another decade. My father is ill with termial cancer, my mother is neurotic as always yet turning into an old woman, her skin finally wrinkling as she approaches 60. My cousins and aunts and uncles aren’t who I remember them to be anymore. My family has grown up without me — which is my fault, having made the choice to move away — but I’m ready for a family to grow up with me.

My boyfriend certainly wants children. Half the time all we talk about is our future together with our kids. Other than his inability to obtain a full time job for the entirety of his 20s, he’ll be an absolutely wonderful father. I know that he’s the one — sure he’s not perfect, but he’s loving, smart, and wise, as well as more idealistic than I’ll ever be. I could (somewhat) easily find someone who has a more settled life, but ultimately I’d be too scared to live up to that person’s expectations of a wife. With my bf, I know he loves me for who I am, with all my many imperfections. And I love him in return, and despite being freaked out by the financial story of our relationship, I will always be with him.

It could be worse. He could be in debt, or have terrible credit. The good news is that he’s very smart with money, with the exception of making it. He lives in a free-standing structure behind his grandparents house and doesn’t have to pay rent, just basic electricity and internet. He’s received help for his car and covers gas and food with a part-time job, for which he gets paid to little for his role and experience. But he isn’t in debt. His parents aren’t wealthy, but they’re extremely frugal, and when the time comes both of us theoretically will have an inheritance of some sort from both sides. Today, he doesn’t have savings or a retirement account, which is concerning. Then again, deep down I feel like I’m the one who has to be the breadwinner and I’ve put all my chips on this startup where I was an early employee and – though odds are I won’t get rich from it — where I may just be able to eek out some life security without being a slave to work throughout my children’s lives.

The trouble is — what if that fantasy doesn’t work out? What is my stock ends up being worthless? Yes, I’m still being wise with my saving to some extent (I could be saving more, I bought myself a nice TV last month for $500 and managed to spend another $500 on Amazon odds and ends) but until I hit $1M in the bank excluding housing I won’t feel like I can have children. That cushion would not ensure that I can stop working, but it would make me confident that I could have the life I’ve dreamed of, and to somewhat — as a spoiled middle class person — expected. My bf doesn’t require any of the finer things in life, he’d be happy living in a tent somewhere, but I’d like an average upper middle class life for my family, and one where I don’t need to work 60 hours a week to obtain it.

But how long do I wait until I feel like this life is a real possibility before having kids? I know it is going to be extremely hard for me to have children no matter when I do it, and with 1.5 years left until 30, I’m panicing a bit. I don’t need to have children the day I turn 30, but I can easily see 30 turning into 32 turning into 40. I know I have about two years left until all of my stock is vested, so I’m commited to my current life for at least that long, assuming the company keeps doing well and I keep liking my job. After that — if all is going well — I’m sure I’ll have great professional options where my salary could increase, but I’ll be confronted with the dilemma of deciding on leaving the professional world to have a child or staying and putting off children for another few years, and likely never having them.

Ideal world, 2015 rolls around, I’ve just turned 31, I’ve been married for a year, and I am ready to take a break from the professional world to have children. And at this time, I’ve also at least saved $300k – $400k, which isn’t enough to put me at ease, but is enough where I could maybe have a child and not feel so scared about commiting myself and my family to a life of living paycheck to paycheck, or worse.

When Parents are Dying: Coping & Planning

Death is never a pleasant experience. As I watch my father slip slowly away, I try to come to terms with reality, but since no one in my family has ever learned how to cope with the cruel nature of life, so goes our lack of outward empathy in death. I’ve never had anyone close to me die, and all that’s going to change — whether in a year or five years, I don’t know, but my father’s cancer is back with a vengeance, and regardless of how much I avoid acknowledging reality, the day will come when I won’t see him alive again.

In the meantime, there are arrangements to be made. Uncomfortable arrangements. Who wants to discuss plans for after they part with the world? My mother and I had a brief conversation today about what her plans are in retirement — selfish as she is, with everything always about her, her sadness only formed in confusion over next steps in her life without the normal next steps for a husband and wife approaching retirement.

The question of what happens to her after he’s gone is one I’ve avoided getting deeply involved in. I told her that I don’t want to be the person to help her decide what to do with her finances because I would not feel comfortable telling her to spend or save money that may have some effect on a one-day inheritance for myself or my sister. I’d rather she discuss this with my father, and make her own decisions, or at least with the help of a trustworthy financial adviser.

Meanwhile, at lunch today, she managed to make me feel terrible, though not on purpose, about previously asking whether she’d be willing to contribute some future financial support for the various fertility treatments I’ll likely have to go through one day in order to have children. As my mother has made numerous comments about wanting grandchildren, I don’t expect her to help me financially with treatments, but if she could help when the time comes, it would be appreciated. But today, in front of company, she made some comment about how I said that she “has to help me” with affording having children, which was a very uncomfortable moment, that took its time to set in before later making me extremely upset. She claims she didn’t mean it that way at all, but it was her friend that responded that she really didn’t seem like she wanted to help me in this situation.

But anyway, I digress. The point here is that these things that will come up in the future are my own costs; but it is up to my mother if she wants to help out ever. I don’t want to be the person to ask her or tell her what to do. I apparently shouldn’t even mention these things, as just vaguely mentioning that I’d appreciate her help if it turns out I’ll need costly fertility treatments turns into a huge deal where she clearly doesn’t want to help, she just feels like she has to. I don’t want her help unless she wants to give it. And she never will.

And, at the same time, I deep down do want to “help” my father at this point — even though he’s often cruel to me — and I can’t. It’s always walking on eggshells around him. His reactions are never something you can guess, and with his illness he’s become, justifiably, even more moody. But I question my own motives for wanting to help — perhaps my motives are inherently flawed and narcissistic, after all I’m still just a little girl seeking her father’s approval. Wanting him to feel comfortable confiding in her about his feelings, without actually being emotionally prepared or strong enough to survive what that actually means. For better or worse, he doesn’t want to talk about it. He wants to mope and be depressed on his own, then get angry over little things that don’t matter, to criticize his family, to avoid his own complete lack of control, his life slowly slipping from his hands as his health manages to fail for all his many medical problems unrelated to the cancer, leaving his last years of life filled with discomfort up to pain. I’m a sick person for at some level wanting him to suffer — but not to die, not to suffer and then learn a lesson in taking your depression and issues out on everyone else — and then to go on with life a new person, a nicer person, one who has learned how to care about other people in a way that doesn’t involve control and manipulation. That’s a story that will never play out. The reality is his suffering only going to get worse. I may be here to see it, I may be home on the other coast, hearing detailed stories from a woman who will complain about having to waste her days helping him, feeling guilty for not being here, feeling guilty for not feeling guilty for not being here, and so on.

The practical questions of what will happen to my mother after my father passes away are ones I haven’t been able to ask, for I can’t bring myself to talking to my father about death. I’m even angry at him because had he gone to the doctor regularly they could have probably caught his cancer early, and with prostate cancer it’s usually curable if caught early. But he didn’t want to go to the doctor because of his weight, which also likely increased his risk of getting the cancer.

Here I am at 27, having finally almost come to accept my own future death, but I am not prepared to watch either of my parents go. Not even my father, who was destined to die early with his morbid obesity, diabetes, and other health issues, even before the cancer.

Life is so short, and it’s passing by so quickly. I was miserable throughout my childhood, yet I’m nostalgic for the few moments of happiness, or even boredom, wasting away lazy summer days, with all the time in the world, all the life in the world. And now, it slips, with ends looming behind every corner.