I Just Wanted to Pee on Something

After I posted the blog yesterday I received many personal messages expressing their support. It really means a lot to know that there are people behind us. A few people even shared their stories of infertility. As lousy as this situation feels and you hate to think of all the other millions of people suffering, it brings a weird comfort that I'm not alone/crazy. Like I said yesterday, I was (am still?) a bit uneasy talking about this topic but if it means that sharing my story will get others to open up too then I think it might be worth it. This diagnosis is a lot to carry around with you day-to-day. Let's stop being ashamed and share when we need to. If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine too. Maybe someone will simply find comfort in my story and find reassurance that they are not crazy for feeling the same things I do all-the-while keeping their story to themselves.

I asked some of the women if it would be ok to share some of the things they shared with me. Each quote is from a different woman:

"Although it is also hard for me to see post after post of newborns, I try to be happy for them. And I am. I am just sad for me."

"Infertility should be called "Endless Grieving!" I wish the old saying "Time will heal your pain" was true, but for infertility time causes more pain. Its pain is ongoing and raw all the time. Your blog reminds people of just how blessed they are...myself included."

"Today was the first day I've been on Facebook since our second miscarriage and I think God was telling me it was ok to log on so that I could read your blog post. I am so sorry for what you are going through and I just cried reading your post. Like you, I have hidden updates from my pregnant friends since our first loss and completely stayed off Facebook for the entire past month- It's just so painful to see announcements, ultrasound pictures, and people complaining about their pregnancy. Like you said, there are some people who would kill to be in their shoes."

"I use to cry in the car lot! And talk to whoever would listen. I remember I would stand in the mall at Christmas time and watch the kids on Santa's lap and cry! Because I thought I would never join the mommy club! It is a lonely journey and I understand."

"My heart breaks every time I get my period, I sob and sob too, praying for a miracle or the strength to accept that I will never feel a baby move inside me again. Like you, I can't bear the sight of pregnant women or the news of a new pregnancy on Facebook...I feel selfish and angry at myself for not being more grateful for what I've already been given....but as you know, your heart breaks when it breaks, regardless."

"Just the other day at work I was told to relax, I nearly poked her eye out with my fork as I ate my salad I couldn't help it but tears streamed down my face."

As weird as it sounds I was sad after I clicked the "Publish" button on my blog yesterday because now...people know. For a year I had pondered keeping it in because I wanted people to think that we had our babies naturally. Good ol' fashion bow-chicka-wow-wowing. But now, I worry that people might think "oh, lab baby." Or if we have multiples they won't find them as miraculous or adorable. If you're honest with yourself, there might be a small, teeny tiny part of you that feels that way.

While reading all the information that was given to us that day at the infertility clinic I breezed through all the parts about the self injections, increased risk of cancer due to hormone therapy, hyperstimulation of the ovaries, etc. - what stopped me in my tracks and brought me to tears was when I read that I would not be able to take a home pregnancy test. I know, dumb right? It said that I will be on so many hormones that the store-bought tests will likely show a +. I cried (as I often do) and I actually had to grieve peeing on a stick! I thought I must be out of my mind! Throughout my life and up to that very moment I had always imagined myself secretly buying a home pregnancy test. I'd probably smile ear-to-ear as the cashier scanned its barcode. I planned on waking up earlier than Eddie to take the test alone. I dreamed of the moment when it would just be me alone in the bathroom and the only two that knew I was pregnant would be me and God. What a glorious moment that must be! The rush you must feel when you see the + or the two lines or the smiley face or whatever develop. It must feel like you're bursting at the seams to tell everyone! I used to fantasize about cute ways that I would tell Eddie the news that he would be a daddy. Oh the look on his face! ::bubble burst:: But no. That's gone. When we find out, there is a chance that I will be half naked at the end of a table with doctors, nurses, and/or technicians surrounding Eddie and I. Not as romantic as my other illusions.

Infertility is best described this way - you have kids right? ("No." Ok well shush, pretend you do.) The feeling that parents feel when their baby is born, you know, the highest of highs? Well from time-to-time, that's how I feel about infertility...only negate that into the lowest of lows. The exact mirror image of that joy would be my despair. Their hope is comparable to my bitterness. The peace that they feel at that moment is at the same level the ache in my heart.

When I cry to my mom on the phone about it she just let's me get it all out (or maybe she's received these phone calls a dozen times and is focusing on her work). Love you, Ma! After I spit it all out she simply says "I don't know how you feel." or "I can't even imagine." That's also a perfectly acceptable thing to say. I welcome it! You don't get it unless you get it. To pretend you understand would be a mistake. This is coming from a mother of four, my youngest brother being a tearful surprise. (Love you, Bronson!) My parents had to actually turn to science to correct how fertile they were! I have no choice but to laugh at the irony.

Please don't feel like I am massively depressed. I have many-a good day. I love my life and my husband and wouldn't swap with any one else. Each of my prayers begins with giving thanks for all that I do have. It's just those hard days or those moments when I'm feeling down and something hits me right on that nerve/sore spot...and I crumble. Thanks again for all your support but if this is what "strong" is I can't imagine my weak side.

Photo courtesy of JF Photography.

Our Baby Bump...in the Road

As February comes to an end I can’t help but sigh with relief that nothing negatively life-altering has happened this month. ::knock on wood:: (There are still some hours left!) February has never been a good month for the Fricks. I dread its approach and am glad to see its departure. There are two days in this month that will forever be imprinted in my head:

February 10^th – the day my husband was diagnosed cancer at age 21.

and

February 29th – the day my sister-in-law got the same news at age 16.



Photos courtesy of JF Photography.

There is one more event that also happened on February 29th that I don't talk much about...a year ago we were diagnosed with infertility.

About this time last year we were sitting in a Swiss doctor's office and I had a paper in my hand with the results of Eddie's sperm tests. For probably the fifth time in my life I can say that I was completely blindsided and unable to comprehend information. I literally didn't understand the words the doctors were saying (even after they switched to English for me). I knew they were talking and I should probably listen for any important information...but I couldn't. I couldn't even politely pretend to be listening. It was all just background noise.

The paper was full of zeroes. Count, mobility, morphology, velocity, etc...all goose eggs. 00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 - was all my eyes saw.

I remember learning about D-A-B-D-A (the stages of grieving) in nursing school and when I think back the "D-Denial" I felt was so textbook. 

Doctor - "There is no sperm."

My ears searched for the missing words. My brain tried telling me "No Rach, you misheard something, they actually said 'There is no (problem with the) sperm.'"

I also checked Eddie's name and birth date in the top corner of the paper at least 10 times. I tried telling myself that they probably mixed up the papers and names...but no. It was his and this was real.

Apparently the chemotherapy treatment had killed all his sperm...sometimes I like to use the word "nuked."

We had previously been trying for a few months and figured we should schedule another appointment for testing. Given Eddie's history, we didn't wait the whole one year of normal attempts and now I'm happy we didn't. Some weeks later we were called into the office to discuss the findings. They told us we only have one option. The good news is is that Eddie froze some "batches" pre-chemo (thank God) but the bad news is is the cancer had already started to affect the quality of the sperm. We were told that neither insemination (just squirting the sample in) nor IVF (in vitro fertilization - where they put both the egg and sperm in a dish and let them do their thing naturally) would work for us. Our only option is called ICSI. I know, I never heard of it before then either. It's where they have to directly insert the sperm into the egg and then place the fertilized egg back inside. We got information on that and they sent us on our way.

We were supposed to start last spring...but...our insurance denied us. Apparently because Eddie is not yet 25? (I'll talk more about the crazy international rules later.) Eddie handles all the insurance phone calls so I'm out of the loop but right now we are just counting the days until his birthday. Even then this procedure is not cheap...we're talking over ten grand...per attempt! And there are no guarantees. 

So now what? Well, it's in my genetic coding to cry and pray. So I do. I cry...often, at least a couple times a week. I actually have techniques on how/when to cry. For the loud ones I wail into pillows and I also found that my couch pillows stifle the cries the best. I no longer wipe my tears/nose with tissues/TP, instead I carry around an old kitchen/bath towel. As pathetic as it sounds, I figured out that it's harder for Eddie to catch me crying if I'm in the shower. Depending on where he is in the house I could close anywhere from 2-4 doors between us to drown out the sobs. If he came in, the tears would look like water and the red eyes could be from shampoo/soap? (He reads my posts so now he knows ::shrug::) I'm not strong. I feel very drained. I am thankful for our one possibility but I still lose it from time-to-time.

More confessions...

I hate IKEA (Yes, they have IKEA over here. It's actually Swedish). I avoid it because it seems to be the Mecca of all pregnant women and their adorable bellies.

I have a group on Facebook where I put all my pregnant friends (and their significant others) and I limit the updates I see from them. I genuinely wish each and every one of these ladies a happy, healthy remainder of their pregnancy but have I momentarily protected myself from a little bit more pain throughout my day? I like to think so. When I am in a funk, baby bump/ultra sound pics and weekly fruit/veggie comparison updates cause me physical ache. I hated stumbling across the occasional pregnancy complaint status - I'd give anything for swollen ankles and a sore back. When I'm having good days I'll go through them and update myself on the goings-on. There is still no way to predict the -"Ok, let's make it Facebook official! We're expecting another 'Buckeye' this fall!" 

As a believer in Christ and miracles I find myself torn between keeping up the faith and accepting reality. My God is capable of anything but if you had all those zeros staring you in the face, what would you think?
My grandma - "You never know, Rachel. God can make them grow again overnight! It only takes one!"
Yes, I know this but my brain can't help but think of the statistics of just one sperm making it to the egg. The doctors said that the sperm can come back anywhere between 5-10-15 years...but of course, we don't want to wait that long.

So what do I need? Love. Understanding. An open ear. An occasional shoulder to cry on. Empathy. Support.

What I don't need - Judgement. 99% of the advice thrown our way. 

Some examples are as follows-

"Tell Eddie to eat lots of beets." Um...no.

"Have you tried Clomid?" Um...I can pop pills 'til the cows come home but unless Clomid now contains Eddie's rejuvenated sperm and I have to insert it vaginally, I doubt it would help much.

"Just adopt." The word "just" doesn't really fit there as it is an equally stressing process. 

Some have also suggested this because of the history of cancer in the family or having a sperm donor. I love my husband and if possible I want his babies. Consider the blow to Eddie's ego if I were to say to him that I want donor before trying anything else. We'll tackle whatever comes our way.

A business acquaintance of Ed’s once told him that for 1,000 CHF he would get me pregnant. (?!?!?) Inappropriate! He should totally be willing to do it for free! ;) Jokes...jokes...jokes, I kid. But seriously, do I really need to remind people not to offer to knock up other people's wives?

Just say - "I'm sorry." or "That really sucks." or "I'll pray."

There is actually a website on help with what/what not to say to infertile couples called Infertility Etiquette. Educate yourselves and support your loved ones.

I'm sorry if this blog made you feel uncomfortable in any way. I hope no one thinks less of me because of the confessions. I wasn't sure about posting about this topic but we speak so openly about cancer diagnoses...why not this too? It's also a medical condition that is out of our control. Even though Eddie beat cancer...the residual effects still keep creeping into our lives.

Are you in love? Are you financially stable? Then make babies...and lots of them. All this other stuff just doesn't matter.

America vs. Germany

41.   Not much is open on Sundays in Germany, and stores close a lot earlier than they do in America. You can basically get whatever you want, whenever you want in America...and in most food cases, it can be delivered to you.

42.   Germany has a 19% sales tax. I'll type that again...19%! It makes you never want to complain about 5.5% in Ohio ever again. Granted, they have universal health care and free schooling...I am not sure which one is better. “The grass is always greener...” Also, the price you see is the price you pay, kinda like in PA. The clothing items are already taxed.

43.   Aldi originated in Germany. The Aldi brothers are actually two of the richest people in Germany.

44.   The German recycling system surpasses ours by far. I feel pathetic with how wasteful I was at home.

45.   The Germans are responsible for separating their own trash/recyclables. The house has multiple different trash cans- one for biological trash, one for paper, one for plastics, one for glass, and one for refundable bottles. Every so often they come and collect bigger household items. All the other recyclables must be brought to the recycling center...no just putting it out to the curb! Now what's your excuse for not recycling, spoiled Americans? ;)

46.   Eddie said his mother would be amazed at the FREE plastic bags we give out with our groceries. The quality of the bags is cheap and I found myself having too many of them. I told him to tell his mom that, if you ask, a young lad will even carry them to your car for you. Here you bring your own bags with you to the store. More environmentally friendly.

47.   Sadly, I see a lot more smokers in Germany...young and old. When I would pick up Eddie's sister from school, I would count the amount of teens that would walk out and immediately light up a cig. It averaged in the 20-30 range.


48.   Lunch is an important meal in Germany. You get about an hour lunch break and almost all the businesses close. Americans wouldn't have that for a minute. "Sorry, closed for lunch break." "What?!? Have someone cover for you while you are on break!" It does make for shorter work days, that's for sure. I even saw all the nurses taking a break in the hospital we visited. It left me wondering...who is tending to the patients?

49.   Breakfast food is different in Germany too. It consists of bread rolls, butter, cheese, and cold cuts. I think Ed prefers American breakfasts better but going out to breakfast in Germany is such a treat.

50.   December 6th is St. Nicholas Day where German children set their shoe out overnight and in the morning it is filled with candy. This is followed in other places too...i.e. my high school Spanish class. "Gracías Señorita Swindler!"

Time Flies

It's been a minute since I last posted and Eddie and I have since traveled home to the States and back. If we missed you, I wholeheartedly apologize - if I did get to see your face, I miss you already! We had a nice time and saw many friends and family. We didn't get the see everyone and do all the things on our list but that task seems to be nearly impossible in just 1-2 weeks' time. I need to start accepting that.

Speaking of flying, I have a confession to make.
::clearing my throat::
::singing a couple of scales to warm up::
Are you ready? Here goes.

I hate people when I travel.

Yes, I know, it's not very Christian-like to say and it goes against my parting words in my last blog entry but...I do. I can't help it! But please allow me to explain! Approximately 8 years ago is when things started to go downhill. Back then, airports were exciting, I felt important, I was (overly?) friendly to people, I walked to my gate and went in and out of shops with a pep in my step! Fast forward tens of thousands of miles later and you will find a very jaded Frau Frick. These days, my motto is basically "every man for himself." Let me break it down -

"Walk left. Stand right." You'd be surprised how many people in the world have a hard time understanding/following these simple directions.

I don't have enough energy to go into detail about these two types of people but here they are none-the-less:
-Those that refuse to approach the completely free, very available self check-in kiosks.
-Those that, even after a decade, do not understand what to do at the security check point. ::wide eyed look:: "What? You mean I can't take this gallon of 2% Milk on the plane with me AND I have to take off these lace-up snow shoes I'm wearing? I'm never flying from this airport again!"

When you see me inserting my earbuds into my ears, that means the conversation is over. I no longer want to hear about your upcoming trip to Tel Aviv or how you are worried about your connecting flight because we took off late. If all goes according to plan, in 10 hours I will never see your face again. Now, go...to...sleep!

People are so inexplicably eager to board the plane that they push, poke, and jab each other. I just sit back and watch them line up like cattle. I'm in no hurry to go into the slaughter house...A.K.A. that Boeing 777 at the end of the jetway. The only time you will see me run is when they announce our flight is canceled and only then am I hightailing it to stand in line. You best bet your bottom dollar I'll be the first one in line at the counter before the rest of the stampede shows up!

Every time I see someone go to the airplane bathroom in their socks I die a thousand deaths. A thousand deaths! I've yet to witness a barefoot entry but I bet people do it. The day I see that one I might just keel over. Barefoot passage through security already makes my skin crawl.

Every time I see a parent change their baby's diaper on the folding tray table approximately 2-3 blood vessels in my head burst! Our drinks and meals are served there...gross! Eddie gets embarrassed but as soon as we find our seats I wipe down our TV screen, arm rests (including each individual button), window shade, head rest, wall and tray table with disinfecting wipes. People are N-A-S-T-Y.

Speaking of diapers and such, on the motion sickness bags in the seat pocket it says:

"May be used for air sickness, waste, and diapers.

Please do not place back in the seat pocket after use."

The fact that that last sentence had to be printed on the bag leaves me no choice BUT to hate people. Can you not hang on to your own stomach contents or your child's feces until the appropriate time to dispose of said waste yourself in the trashcan at the back of the plane? Blah! ::shiver::

You do not need to travel in a ball gown but I am going to need you to bathe yourself within 24 hours of your flight with me. Thanks in advance. (And don't you dare try to cover up your body stench with cologne.) No one wants to spend the whole flight with their nose hidden in their sleeve. Don't make me make you feel uncomfortable.

Next up, the seat belt sign...oh the seat belt sign! I'm not a flight attendant but when I see it's turned on and someone stands up to go to the bathroom or remove their stupid airplane pillow from the overhead bin I want to not-so-kindly remind them that they are not exempt to the rules. I need to have my own PA system....

"Hey, sir. Sir! Yes, you. Excuse me for interrupting your "Easy" Sudoku ::eye roll:: but do you mind covering your mouth when you cough? You remember, something you learned to do back in oh, say, kindergarten? In case you haven't noticed but for the past 3 + hours we've been stuck in a pressurized capsule at about 30,000 feet with recirculating air together. It's a cesspool in here! Please keep your swine flu to yourself by covering your mouth...wait, no, not in your hand! Ugh!"

Some people give parents the nastiest looks when their kids run amok while we are all waiting at the gate. In my opinion, run free children! Burn that energy! In fact, I think I saw a clown giving out balloon animals 22 gates down, sprint and get yourself one! In 1 hour's time, they will be crammed into a seat just squirming to move those little legs of theirs. If karma runs its course, they'll be sitting right next to you, old Mrs. Dirty-Look-Giver! What, like when your kids were young they behaved perfectly? Psht, yea right. They probably didn't have planes back when you had small children. I empathize with parents on long flights in hope that when it is my turn to travel with young ones I will be shown the same patience. Deal breaker - diaper changing on the tray table! Then we are enemies! (My future - "Mommy, why does my apple juice tastes like Benadryl?" "Shhhh, sweetheart. Just cheers Mommy's wine and we'll sleep the whole flight together.")

"Well, Rachel, why don't you fly first class?"
Hm, well, that's be nice but it turns out God gave me more brains than money to be able to do that.

I get it, you're tired, hungry, and uncomfortable but it does not give you the excuse to lose all common sense/courtesy.  In case of an emergency and Rachel Frick is seated in the exit row I will open that door just far enough to wiggle out myself and close it right behind me! Don't put it past me! I told you, it's every man for himself!

The day I left America for Germany. My wedding dress flew in first class...if that counts?

Germany vs. America Facts

31.   "Wait...they don't have Chipotle in Germany?!?"
No...they don't. Common US restaurants that I have seen here include: McDonald's (obviously), Burger King, Subway, Dominos, Pizza Hut, *Bucks (yea, I abbreviated it like that), KFC, Dunkin' Donuts. I'm sure I'm forgetting some.

32.   It's cool to meet/eat at McDonald's here. I have to explain here that it is embarrassing to eat there in the States. There are so many other (better) options!

33.   Please don't ask to compare gas prices. They use euros, we use dollars. They go by liters, we use gallons. If you are an expert at conversions, by all means...knock yourself out. The last time I did that math it was about like $8.50/gallon...yea, imagine that! Every time I hear an American complain about the gas prices I want to smack their spoiled little mouth! ;)

34.   I've noticed Germany's highest gas quality is 100. Ours is 92. (I think?) I don't know what that all means...do you?

35.   Eddie drives a Volkswagen (and they pronounce is Folksvagen).  Ok, ok, before Ed comments, I must specify, it is a Volkwagen Golf 5 GTi Turbo 2.0 ... and red.

36.   If you get pulled over in Germany...the police officer pulls in front of you and turns on a sign in the back window instructing for you to: "Bitte Foglen" or "Please follow me" and they will lead you to the place to stop.

37.   If there are not two police officers in the car, one can argue that it is their word again yours. Try telling that to a state hooptie!

38.   Ed does not own, nor has he ever heard of a Sham-Wow...before watching American television...are you following me, camera guy? Even though it claims to be manufactured in Germany.

39.   According to my cell phone:
$1 = €0.76
€1 = $1.31
1 CHF = $1.07
$1 = 0.93 CHF
And no, CHF doesn’t mean congestive heart failure. It stands for Swiss Francs. I don’t know why they abbreviate Switzerland with CH, do you?

40.   All cars in Germany/Switzerland are required to go through "technical controls" to ensure that they are safe for the road. Thank goodness that does not exist in Ohio. The 'Stang wouldn't have passed in any category.

Do you have any questions you want answered about what it's like to live here? Comment below! Have you been to Germany and you think my "fact" is completely erroneous? Please, chime in! I would LOVE to hear what you think. Remember to include the number of the "fact" you are referring to.

Auf Wiedersehen!