Being Mid-Career and All That

I think I am (still?) experiencing some kind of burnout or what other folks describe as a post-tenure slump.

When I break down my job piece by piece, I have to say I like most of it.  I like the teaching (some classes are better than others, of course, but generally I like being in the classroom), I like reading, I like writing.  I like meeting with colleagues (when the meetings are necessary, anyway).  I like working with students outside the classroom.  I like going to talks and poetry readings.

I don't like bureaucracy.  I don't like busy work (and those two things tend to go together).  I don't like how some things are done at my university.

Mostly the good outweighs the bad, when I'm looking at things somewhat objectively.  I have a good gig.  I am woefully underpaid for someone with a PhD, even within my already woefully underpaid subsector of the academy.  But really, given that I'm not largely motivated by money, I don't think about that much.

So what the fuck is my problem?

I am having a horrible time finishing this book manuscript.  (I would rather be writing anything but my book manuscript.)  Maybe this is a specific problem and I shouldn't generalize it into a whole mid-career slump problem.  But I suspect they are related.  Hmm.

Maybe I will go read something at the Chronicle.

Things That Are a Colossal Waste of My Time

1. Sitting in on a graduate student's class that is, I kid you not, 100% student presentations.
2. Judging an undergraduate research forum in which half the presenters don't show up.
3. Going through files of colleagues who fail to organize or remove out of date material.

See, I don't mind these various responsibilities.  And in theory they are enjoyable parts of my job.  But when it means leaving my 5-month-old with a babysitter?  I'm annoyed, to say the least.

Guilt Dies Hard

Just curious about what you would do if you were me.

So my chair asked me to do a little service thing, on top of all my agreed-upon service things, that will take probably 3 hours of my time.  My first thought?  I'd have to skip yoga (which I'm already doing next week, for a previously agreed upon thing).  My second thought:  I owe him this, given how relatively little I'm doing even though I am technically "full time."  My third:  Best Professor Friend did substantially less (like, really, nothing) and I'm already having to get childcare at all hours of the day (7:45 am!!!!) to cover the random shit I was asked to do.  Fourth:  This is a total favor.  I get absolutely nothing out of it, and my annual merit review next year is already going to suck because I won't have published much of anything and I'll have been out of the classroom for an entire year and even if one considers that my teaching was reallocated to service, doing one extra 3 hour thing really won't change the outcome.  If I'm going to put in extra work time, it should be for real work, like writing/reading.  Fifth:  I'm tenured.  Fuck this.  Sixth:  He knows I'm nice.  He knows I'm one of those people he can ask to do things and I'll do them and be generally agreeable about it, even if I whine about it in my head or on a blog.  Seventh:  I still haven't gotten my entire raise, so why should I do anything for this university?  But it's not really for the university, it's for my department, and I really do like my department most of the time, now that certain evil people have retired.  Sigh.

This is the year of peace.  What would bring me peace?

Wait.  Is that a rhetorical question?

Wading In

I am very slowly wading back in to work.  I've got a few more weeks on the maternity leave clock but am feeling the tug of the job.  That fact surprises me.  I mean, I always knew I'd feel the pull to get back to my career (esp. the writing and reading) but given all the drama surrounding my tenure case, I sort of figured I wouldn't want to have much to do with my actual job.  But I found myself emailing my chair the other day, in response to his call for nominations to serve on big committees next year, putting my name forward.  And I've been in touch with folks from the (three) student organizations I oversee/work with.  And started writing again.

Slowly, at my own pace, mixed in with the laundry and diapers and adventures in the stroller.  Still haven't worked out the mother's helper thing.  And I'm currently typing with one hand, with Tiny Boy sleeping in the crook of my left arm.  But this is temporary, and theoretically I could be at my job another 30 years.  For now, here is where I mostly want to be:

It's Official

I am now Associate Professor Gwinne.

I will say it again:  it seems 2011 didn't suck after all.

And One More Thing

My chair called this afternoon to say that the provost's office is recommending promotion and tenure.  Which doesn't make it official--there is that whole board of trustees rubber stamping thing--but let's just say I'll be putting in a sabbatical application.

I know I've said it before, but it really is astonishing how my tenure timeline and pregnancy timeline have gone hand-in-hand...

Now if only that small press would accept my book...

20 weeks!!

How did I get this far?!  Seriously!  By all numerical reckonings, I am at least halfway done with this pregnancy.  If I do the elective repeat c-section, that will be at 39 weeks.  And given that (a) my first c-section was done due to a failure of labor to progress, (b) this boy is breech (yes, it's early and he could move, but he has a clear preference for this position, with his feet tucked up by his head where he can grab his own toes [yes, I have an ultrasound pic of that]), (c) I will not be allowed to go much, if at all, past my due date and cannot be induced, and (d) there's that whole placenta problem, well, scheduled c-section seems likely.  Oddly, I think I'm okay with that possibility (oddly, because I'm the kind of person that under other circumstances would give birth in a birth center with a midwife and no drugs).

Anyhoo...we're definitely past the reign of terror.  I think perhaps this is the Reign of Disbelief.  I still don't believe there will be a take home baby at the end of this--perhaps at 24 weeks?--but I need to keep talking to LG about "your brother" and even my OB said at present she's "not worried," so it is at least a rhetorical reality for me.  To facilitate this letting go of all the suckage of the past 3 years, I think I'm going to drop off my extra drugs (lupron and PIO) to Dr. Gorgeous the next time she's in town; she said she'd love to see me.

Yesterday I took LG shopping and we ended up with a bunch of onesies with monkeys and little brown pants and a rainbow of $1 socks from old navy (gotta love the clearance racks).  Given how much I spent getting this boy into my body, the least I can do is let his sister pick out some clothes for the grand total of $40.

In other news, I got my annual review letter from my chair, which places me in the "high" merit category, clearly above average for the past 3 years in all areas, which is fucking ironic and nice recognition given that my tenure case stalled, which he mentioned in the letter.  I'll take it, esp. considering I feel like I've accomplished very little while ttc (given the lags in the publishing industry the effects of that won't actually show up on my CV until, well, about now).  Yesterday I ran into two of my former students at the bookstore where they both work, who mentioned former student #3 who apparently also remembers me fondly and is now in law school (yay!), and that was nice recognition, too.

And now I'm going to go to the farmer's market with LG before it gets wicked hot (I woke up with a headache, and that is never a good sign about the weather) and be one of those pregnant women I was desperately envious of last year.  And then at some point I need to read a couple hundred pages, as this daily summer school thing is kicking my ass.

That is, life is generally good.  It's not exactly what I thought July 2011 would bring, but I have no major complaints either.

Brooding

Some facts:  I am avoiding checking work email and answering work email when I do check it (even if it would take about 30 seconds to do so).  I am in a complete state of denial about summer school starting in two weeks and have done nothing beyond ordering books to prepare for my class.  I am having angry conversations with my department chair (not in real life, only in my head) in which I go ballistic about his suggestion for me to do "service" for 9 weeks and not just give me a semester off (which would not be an issue if only I'd asked to take my grant in the spring instead of the fall but I didn't see this one coming).  I am becoming more and more convinced that I might not get tenure, after all this drama.

In a nutshell, I'm brooding about work instead of brooding about gestating.  And then I get angry that I am brooding about work and not just enjoying being pregnant.  I am full of rage about this tenure debacle, and I do not like it.  The end result is that I'm going to hate my department chair, even though I like him as a person and think he's a good chair, for all intents and purposes.

I need to figure out a productive way of relating to my department and the university.  I don't want to become one of those bitter academics like my disseration director, who moves every 5 years or so because she makes enemies and thrives on drama and rage.  I do not thrive on drama and rage.

I love my chosen profession.  I like many things about my particular job within the profession.  I would like to go back to being happy with the teaching and the writing and the dailiness of academe.  I saw two colleagues at the farmer's market the other day, and another one this morning (turns out his kid and LG are doing the same summer camp), and they were such nice out-of-the-office interchanges with people who care about me professionally if not personally.  But prolonging a tenure decision for  eighteen fucking months after I submitted my materials is making me a raving lunatic.  And I don't know what to do about it other than vent and have angry conversations in my head.  Grrr.

4w5d

It's been a really rough couple days.

On Wednesday, in addition to the low rise with the beta, I was hit with potentially devastating news about my tenure case. I haven't fully processed what it means yet. But it basically comes down to the upper administration not being pleased with how my chair handled my case and requesting additional information for my file...and a decision being postponed until the fall. My chair is adamant that if they wanted to deny me tenure they'd probably do it outright. But I don't know. Now I need to rethink everything, including whether or not to look for another job (academic or otherwise).

Then of course LG woke up crying Wednesday night with an ear ache, which meant neither of us slept. And she had to stay home with me on a day I desperately needed her at school. Fortunately I got a friend to stay with her for an hour so I could go to therapy and just cry.

I tucked LG into bed at about 6:30 last night, got into bed myself at 7:00 and napped for a while. Got up at 8:45, took my meds, watched a bit of a movie, and was back to sleep by 10:00. I didn't get up until almost 7:00. That's more sleep than I've gotten in the previous week combined, I think.

I'm still exhausted. And I can't tell how much of it is pregnancy exhaustion and how much of it is emotional exhaustion and how much is just not sleeping well for a very long time.

My breasts still hurt (but not as much). I'm still nauseous. But I know from having had three previous pregnancies, symptoms mean absolutely nothing.

Today LG is back at school, on antibiotics and after a good 12.5 hr sleeep. I've got the day to have my blood drawn, to mope, to watch movies, to clean, to read, to do whatever I feel like doing. And that's good, no matter what news the day brings.

Cycle Day Huh?

I am supposed to go in for baseline monitoring tomorrow (theoretical cd 2) before starting estrace.

Granted, I've never been on lupron before, but I always start bleeding exactly 2.5 days after stopping progesterone and/or coming off the pill (okay, maybe there was one 3 day gap in there, but you get the point). I had a huge gush of blood--like, went through my pants it happened so fast--on Friday (before coming off the pill), and then nothing. Stopped the pill, as instructed, on Saturday. And I've been waiting. And cramping. And waiting. And cramping. And spotting. And waiting.

I'm not sure what this means, but I suspect it's not looking good for getting started on estrace tomorrow. Fortunately, there are a few extra days built into my calendar (target retrieval is still 18 days out), but, hello?

*

In other news, my chair told me, completely off the record, though he did repeat it in TOC meeting so it's sort of public: my inside sources say your case sailed through college RPT and you're being promoted.

I'll believe it when I see it in writing, but I think I can let all tenure worries go...

Now if only I would start bleeding. Hopefully for the last time for the next 12 months or so...

What a Day

1. IUI #20 (is it seriously that many?) is done. I didn't cry, but I didn't feel particularly happy about it either, even in the Harmony Room. Great count, but I bled copiously afterward. I think I can say with the utmost certainty that is the last IUI I will ever have in my life. (Never say never, I know.)
2. Within 2 minutes of leaving Dr. Gorgeous's office--I wasn't even on the main road yet--I was involved in a fender-bender. No damage to my car, minimal damage to the other party's car, but the upshot was I was about fifteen minutes late to class (which is, frankly, amazing, and it's pretty damn astonishing I've never been late before doing the inter-class drive). I am grateful that's a drive I will NEVER make again between classes.
3. I am completely in love with my intro class, even if it is in a room that--I kid you not--bears the moniker "the dungeon." If it didn't have windows, I'd be wicked claustrophobic in there.
4. A friend came over for wine night, which I completely needed after #1 and 2. I'm sure the acupuncturist will be less than impressed with my decaf-with-milk-and-sugar+alcohol tongue. But whatever.
5. I finally checked my email and found this, which my chair sent this morning: Dear Gwinne, This is to inform you, following university policy, that I have formally recommended to the Dean that you be promoted to Associate Professor and granted tenure. Second hurdle down, many more to go.

A Day in the Life of a Control Freak

Today has been rough. I'm desperately trying to move forward and getting impeded every step of the way.

1. Apparently all my paperwork for tenure has not been submitted to the college (that's my chair's issue) but our incompetent secretary asked me today for digital copies of documents that don't exist because I was not asked to write them. I'm sure this is a miscommunication--I emailed my chair to doublecheck--but nevertheless, I'm pissed. WHY CAN'T PEOPLE JUST DO THEIR FUCKING JOBS WHEN THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO?! I got my shit in July 1 as I was told, and they're just figuring this out NOW?

2. When the same secretary--whom I actually like on a personal level--was too "busy" to facilitate the copying of my syllabi and scanning of documents I need for Monday, I went to secretary #2, who let me use the no-faculty-allowed copy machine in order to get things done in a total of 5 minutes.

3. I am once again trying to organize a meeting for the student organization I allegedly oversee, because the students themselves don't do it. I hate this kind of nonsense. I just want to do my JOB, not organize meetings.

4. DCL has not fucking sent me the stats on the donor's previous cycles. I sort of need that information to make a final decision.

5. Dr. Gorgeous's nurses have not called me back to tell me that yes, they've looked at a calendar, and yes, I can do a January IUI without compromising March.

6. According to our latest email exchange, Dr. Gorgeous wants to see this donor like NOW and get her on the pill. (I guess I've made March-March-March clear enough to her, anyway!) But I need to meet with a fucking lawyer to sign a contract that I can read on my own, thank you very much, before that can happen. So she wants me to call her nurses (umm, why can't they do their fucking jobs?) and call the DCL (again, why can't she do her fucking job) to get this started. I'm happy to sign the contract and write the check and have it in the mail TOMORROW but this time-taking bullshit is making me go out of my mind.


I'm not sure if it's the stress of all this DE stuff and people being idiots or the beginning-of-cycle-estrogen-crash, but the Headache is back. (I think I actually need to see the neurologist's NP for the first time in about 18 months to get drug refills, although I'd rather not be taking the drugs.) The only things that seem to calm me down right now are (a) brisk walks in the freaking cold, (b) eating things that require a lot of jaw work (like crunchy granola), and (c) vodka, which is, frankly, wearing a hole in my stomach and probably not helping with the headache.

I need a personal assistant I can trust. Fuck.

Unrelated Bits of Anxiety and Dread

1. I just turned in my tenure portfolio. My department chair was pretty blase about the whole thing. I'm glad it's done, but the finality of it has filled me with a sense of dread. I mean, I won't find out officially if I actually GET tenure for another full year. And now it's totally out of my hands. And if you read this blog you know that I am a control freak. I am skeered, people.

2. When the medical assistant called me to give me instructions today I was told to stay at my same dose of Menopur and add Ganirelix for two days, come back on Thursday for monitoring, for IUI on Saturday. Have I mentioned that I have a single follicle at 16+ (and an E2 level of over 300) and no chance in hell of anything else developing? Thus began phone calls back and forth so I could actually find out what this plan was all about. Turns out Dr. G was trying to save me from driving back there every freaking day this week. Sounds good to me. But then I started thinking, if there's no actual *medical* reason for waiting, and I'm already concerned that this poor follicle has been way overexposed to LH, why the fuck would I want to take Menopur for an extra day? And why not get this cycle over with as soon as possible? So I left a message that may or may not be returned today, and I'll take Ganirelix + Menopur tonight regardless, but methinks I won't be waiting until Thursday to trigger. Argh. Argh. Argh.

On Being Zen

It was just about a year ago that Dr. Gorgeous told me I needed to be zen. I'm entering what should be one of the most crazy-making weeks of my career. Last night I decided that the most important thing I can do is stay calm and just get this stuff done (the stuff being both reproductive and professional). Here's the reproductive plan, to keep me focused and healthy for the next few cycles:

• walk daily
• do yoga daily
• stop eating all dairy, with the exception of cream in coffee, which is my one dietary luxury
• go back to eating walnuts, olives, and other combatants of NK cells
• start taking DHEA

By NOON of June 30, I will do the following:

• complete my statement of professional activities [in pretty good shape now]
• fill in missing page numbers and such on my CV [also, minimal work]
• photocopy everything I've published since grad school [ugh!]
• order books for my fall class
• send out a minimum of 3 more manuscripts and, ideally, 6
• meet with my writing group about a current project
• drive to Dr. Gorgeous's office probably 3-4 times

On June 30 at 1:00 I have scheduled myself for a massage, after which time I will do nothing resembling work for two weeks, go somewhere with LG [need to get on that], and, hopefully, hopefully, hopefully, get knocked up with a keeper. A girl can dream, can't she?

So Much for The Year of Grace

I've lost the zen. I wouldn't say I'm a nervous wreck, but I'm definitely off-kilter. Tenure anxiety. Reproductive anxiety. I'm only two days into this wait, and already I'm coming up with plans for Dr. Gorgeous (up my estrogen dose? halve my follistim dose?).

I'm waiting. I'm tired of waiting. This baby project has dragged on already a year longer than my worst case scenario. The tenure thing? Well, if I'd stayed at my other job I would have had it a few years ago. Now not only do I not have it, I'm not sure I'm going to get it.

I'm waiting. Where the hell is my good thing?

Random Bullets of the Third Week of Summer

• It's gone from unseasonably cold to unseasonably hot. Like, according to official reports average high is usually around 72, and it has been in the mid/high eighties for several days. In practical terms, that means I am opening and closing windows all day long, turning on and off fans, to try to keep our (un-airconditioned) house cool. So far it's mostly working, but I expect today is the tipping point.
• Thanks to excellent sale prices, LG and I have four kinds of ice cream in our freezer at the moment: 2 kinds of sorbet, 1 odd cookie-dough flavored coconut milk concoction, and (for me alone) vanilla heath bar crunch. Mmmmm.
• Had good conversations with Dr. Boy and my diss director this week about my summer projects and upcoming tenure nonsense. I have to say, the one nice thing about ongoing fertility treatment is that it's relocated my anxieties. I just don't see the point expending insane amounts of energy worrying about tenure. Either I get it or I don't, and at this point, beyond putting together a good statement of professional goals and activities, there's not much I can do. I'm sure that will change, but for now, that's where I'm at.
• I've been spending my afternoons on the porch reading. I'm about half-way through McInerney's The Good Life, which is better than I expected, though it seems infertility is inescapable (one of the main characters used her sister as an egg donor).
• I'd gotten it in my head that I needed to work on one major project this summer, in a sustained way, to be able to talk about next book project in my tenure stuff. Conversation with diss director reminded me that that's not really how I have ever worked, so why start now. That's somewhat liberating.
• I'm quite ambivalent about my conversation with Dr. Gorgeous tomorrow. I always make these appointments at moments of extreme crisis, which, naturally, have passed by the time I actually see her. I'm not sure what I want to say, other than the more I look into donor embryo as a possibility the ickier it seems to me; I mean, I think if an appropriate embryo just happened to make itself available to me, I'd probably pursue it. But looking at websites where the donating "parents" choose the adoptive parent(s), where they can specify religious background and marital status....ewww. (I could go on and on about the ethics and politics of all this, but for now I'll leave it at that.) Donor egg is wicked expensive and I still feel too young to need it. Logically, I keep telling myself that it took ten cycles to conceive LG, and I began that process at 29; I'm only at fourteen cycles now, which isn't that much more, even though it feels like it (though, to be fair, that's a difference of 10 cycles in 13 months and 14 cycles in 20 months, with cancelled cycles and other complications). That is, I don't feel like I have much more stamina to continue this process, and I also feel like it's too early to give up (which, when I emailed WFRE last week, she actually said). I can't help but wonder if I were actually having sex on a regular basis, would I have gotten pregnant a long time ago? The technical diagnosis on most of my forms is, ironically "male factor," because I'm using a donor; what that glosses over, of course, is everything wrong with me (low ovarian reserve, luteal phase defect, micropolyposis, APA, MTHFR, RPL and who knows what else). [Umm, that was longer than I intended. Sorry.]
• I think I will go to the library this afternoon and maybe, possibly, check my campus mail. There's something about bringing home new books that I just love, no matter how long they sit on my shelves before I read them. It's time to trade some of the old in for the new.
• Today was supposed to be LG's last day at her daycare/after-school program. I mean, she was only there to accommodate my teaching schedule (and random trips to see Dr. Gorgeous), which is no longer a factor. What I failed to consider is her point of view, which has nothing to do with economic or temporal realities; it's part of her routine to go there on Mondays and Wednesdays, and she wants to continue to do that until she finishes school. So, for $33, she gets three more days of playing with her buds, even though I will be at her school on one of those days. I think I should take this as a sign of having her in an excellent childcare program, which is good, considering she's been there in some form since she was 18 months.
• And now, folks, I really must do something resembling actual work.

RE: Your submission

It's so nice when you expect that you've received yet another rejection letter but in actuality are being told that your manuscript has made the final cut for a press's annual list and they just want to know if it's being considered elsewhere.

I know better than to get my hopes up. This is a manuscript that has garnered attention at multiple presses (it won second place in a national contest for goodness sake!) but has not yet received a contract for publication.

Still: you know what a nice birthday I'll have if I wind up getting pregnant *and* getting a book contract? Hell, one of the two would make my year.

The Seven Year Itch

My mother likes to talk about how we have a new body every seven years (she's mostly referring to weight gain as women age). But it seems like an apt metaphor for my life more generally. I was in grad school for seven years, and by the beginning of that last year I was stir crazy, watching all my friends get jobs and get married and have babies. I felt like I was stuck. I was done with being a grad student, desperately ready to move on to the next phase of my life (for me, that was getting a tenure track job and trying to have a baby).

I've been out of school now for seven years, and if I'd stayed at my job, I'd be tenured. Because I moved and accepted a new position, I have a few years yet before I'll meet that professional milestone. But I feel it in my body, and I see it on my CV. I am done being an assistant professor. I have multiple book manuscripts looking for publishers. I'm actively trying to have another child. My department chair has already spoken to me about an administrative position after I get promoted. I'm ready, oh so ready, for the next phase of my life to start. I feel like I'm in limbo--a 2ww that will go on indefinitely--just waiting for something to happen. I've done all I can. Now I'm just biding my time...

On the Decision to Try for Baby #2

The Baby Project is now a officially in full swing. I have filled out required paperwork, subjected myself to blood tests, bought supplies (both expensive and inexpensive), and stewed. What I haven't done is tell my mother; it is a conversation I am sort of dreading--largely because I think her response will be "are you nuts?! LG already has you at the end of your rope!" but also because she's in the midst of the Nonsense Regarding My Younger Sister's Mental Health (yes, that deserves All Caps). I will do that sometime in the next few weeks, once things settle down.

Yet despite my inability to tell my mom, I'm pretty chill about all of this, which is odd given how ambivalent I had been up until the moment I actually put money toward it. Now it's just another thing to do, like my job. That's not to say I'm not excited about it. Just that this time around it's one component of a life that is, frankly, going pretty darn well. I sat down with my CV and realized, whether my Dept Chair explicitly said it or not, I'm in really good shape for tenure (that essay long in progress was FINALLY slated for publication this spring!). My big list of things to do, well, not so big, particularly if I decide to hire someone to do various house repairs that I will never get around to doing otherwise. And most significantly, I'm feeling calm and in control when it comes to LG. In other words, I'm in a good place to add a little bit of drama. Not a lot of drama, mind you, just a little bit.

I won't know for sure until I'm in the thick of it, but I have a feeling that ttc for #2 will be nothing like ttc for #1: (1) we already know I can get pregnant and carry to term, (2) I know something about how I respond to meds, (3) it won't require driving to Big City and back for procedures that last only a few minutes at most. What all this adds up to is I'm feeling good about all this. I'm taking prenatal vitamins and sleeping through the night. The big test will be how I feel once the semester begins.

Now, if only I could figure out what REAL writing to do this morning...

Annual Reviews

So I read my annual review by my chair and, as with the one he gave last year, the damn thing actually made me cry. I mean, it's so fucking nice. I don't mean that it says I'm the best thing since sliced bread or merely extols my virtues--though it is, objectively, a mostly flattering portrait. It just reads like there's an actual human being behind the letter, unlike the ones given out by Previous Chair. It recognizes the flaws in the major program to which I am a contributing faculty. It recognizes that scholarship can be on fun things (like TV!). It recognizes how difficult it can be to be a junior faculty member in this department. And yet...

it still has me turning around in circles trying to decode the single sentence of bureaucrat-ese. How much do I *really* need to do for tenure? What would happen if I didn't keep going at what is, I think, a break-neck speed? Will he still think I'm in a good place, professionally, if I do decide to have another child? Should I have another child because my chair has mostly indicated that if I keep doing what I'm doing I will, in all likelihood, get tenure? Why is it that my department--even with a kindly human as Current Chair--cultivates anxiety in those who don't need to be anxious and supports those who are generally fuck-ups who don't get their work done? What is that about?