bump #59: it doesn't get easier

The bumps are few and far between these days. And really they're more like twinges, little jabs that catch me off guard... Someone else is pregnant at work, the only parking spot available is the one that says "expectant mother", the baby clothes at Target are so adorable that I have to intentionally walk the outer perimeter of the store when I'm shopping so I don't have to look at them.  It just hurts.  I don't have new thoughts on this never ending struggle, or even the words to write. I can sum up the last 4 years in a wimpy little sentence:

Trying to have a baby is hard, and it doesn't get easier.

My friends who are parents will probably tell you that having a baby is hard, and it doesn't get easier either.  They're right. {Insert comment about the grass always being greener...}

I can't explain why, but I really thought it would get easier. That at some point I would just accept the fact that I can't have a baby (without serious medical intervention and miracles) and move on.

But I can't move on.

For the last year and a half I have actively avoided fertility treatment. It is easier to view it as a distant possibility like "we can always do IVF, surrogacy, adoption" than to deal with the real potential for failure. It goes from being an open-ended option to being the only option, which makes it a lot scarier. I know IVF is the next step if I ever want to experience pregnancy, but I also know that if it doesn't work I'll feel like there are no more steps left. Somehow 3 failed IUI's doesn't bring out my optimism about moving forward with IVF. Yes, every procedure is independent of the others and has an equally likely chance of success, but it feels like my chance of success is always zero.

I need to come at this from a different perspective. My heart is heavy and hurting and I'm ready for it to feel different.

A couple months ago, I read this post from one of my favorite writers, Jen Hatmaker, and something she wrote resonated with me. The gist of it was this: we pray and pray, and "we often don't end up with what we wanted, but we somehow end up with a different heart."

Obviously, I have not ended up with what I wanted, but somehow I know God is working on my heart.

bump #57: pms

Today was the day I hit my breaking point. Everything that could go wrong went wrong. It feels like my head exploded. I don't remember how I even got home, but the second I walked through the door I lost it. Sobs and sniffles and incoherent words along the lines of "I haven't eaten all day, and I have to pee so bad, and the parents are all incarcerated."

Let me back up.

Saturday morning I woke up with a UTI. I have only had two bladder infections in my entire life, but by Saturday my kidneys were in so much pain I couldn't stand up and I thought I was going to die. I probably had it all week; as a new teacher I don't have time to do anything, much less go pee when I need to. Thank God my new insurance kicked in last week and I was able to get on antibiotics right away.

The only problem with antibiotics is they make you super nauseous. So I have been uncomfortable and queasy for the past four days. Normally I could handle that, but yesterday PMS showed up like a dark cloud raining down cray cray, emotional what not, and a fog I can't seem to get out of. On top of the "I feel like I'ma barf" meds, everyday life kept escalating, and it's only Tuesday, so you can only imagine how pleasant I am. Usually right before my period comes I am crampy and cranky. No big deal. But once or twice a year my hormones get all out of whack and I turn into a teary eyed, unpredictable mess. This is one of those times.

PMS before infertility was awful, no joke. But PMS after infertility is insane. There is something about knowing, without a doubt, every month, that this is not "the month" that makes it infinitely worse. Everything seems so final and uncontrollable. I'm not a mom and I'll never get to be a mom and everything is awful. Normal teacher Bren doesn't make a big deal about my 5th grade students' parents being years younger than me, but today it was all too much. All I saw was a 25 year old with four kids telling me how to do my job. And all I could do was suck it up, hold it together for the next 7 hours, come home, and cry. In all honesty, that lady young lady girl child is a hot mess with a bad attitude and no social skills, but for a minute I was so jealous of her. She has something I don't. Life is so unfair. More so when you're premenstrual, obviously.

After suffering through the day where technology failed me, my laptop died in the middle of a power point presentation, half the class couldn't do basic multiplication, everybody hated everybody, and my recess and lunch break went to dealing with behavior problems (no wonder I come home starving with bladder infections), there was a staff meeting. It wasn't the kind with cookies and warm fuzzies. It was the kind where we review every minute detail about everything pertaining to our audit on Thursday.. Halloween. Yes, the District Superintendent has great timing. I cannot think of a worse day to be observed than Halloween except for maybe the day after Halloween. The hits keep on coming.

In reviewing our school data I learned that our elementary school students have the highest percentage of incarcerated parents (mom, dad, or both) in all of San Diego County. We also have the highest percentage of homeless families. My heart sank. How can I teach these kids about fractions when they're in broken homes at best, assuming they even have a home? Then the principal told us that a kid threatened to bring a gun to school and shoot one of the teachers last week. As if we weren't all on edge already due to current events. He then went on to say that another student in the classroom right next to mine did bring a gun to school today (a pellet gun, whatever that is), and shot several rounds into his backpack during class. He is currently suspended for 5 days with a court date pending. I have no words.

I have to think that some of my current mental breakdown is totally warranted. Basically everything sucks, and it sucks even more because of PMS.

bump #53: another mother's day

And now for the obligatory infertile reflection on Mother’s Day…

I’m over it.

To be clear, I’m not over celebrating mothers. They deserve to be celebrated everyday!
What I am over are the constant reminders that I’m not a mother. Still.

But rather than whine about what a travesty that is, and it is, we are going to skip town for a couple days and go to the beach. It would be better if I actually got to spend Mother’s Day with my mom, but South Padre will have to do.

So this Mother’s Day will be spent in the sunshine with my loves {Andrew and Maddie}.

And even if I was a mom, I think that’s exactly how I’d want to spend Mother's Day.
Pics here

On a related note, please check out my friend Erika's post with a letter to new moms. 

(You can vote for her too!)

I love how she puts into words exactly what I'm feeling.

I should probably just link to her blog every time I post and save myself the energy :)

bump #48: A day in the life

A while back I did "a day in the life" post here. Today I am taking that same theme but from a little different perspective:

Let me preface this by saying that we are currently (for 2013) taking a break from "hardcore" fertility treatment. Read: no more blood work, ultrasounds, x-rays, surgery, inseminations, or doctor's appointments. So what I am including here is more of a lax approach to daily life as someone struggling with infertility or "infertility lite" if you will.

Let's look at this hour by hour, because it turns out that's about how often I think about it.

6am: alarm goes off. Grab thermometer. Take basal body temperature whilst remaining perfectly still so as not to sway it by even a fraction of a degree. Dot BBT chart and rub the sleep out of my eyes in attempt to make sense of it. Proceed with morning routine... sleep in until 6:30, if that really counts as sleeping in. It doesn't by the way.

7am: Take femmenessence vitamin to restore hormone imbalances. Depending on what cycle day it is either stick an estrogen patch under my belly button, or apply progesterone cream to assist with potential implantation in the luteal phase, or drink Chinese herbs (Zao Jiao Ci) dissolved in hot water to help bring on ovulation, or take a big fat naproxen to alleviate menstrual cramps. I don't know if any of that really amounts to much, but it feels good to know that I'm at least trying something. Oh and I always remember to eat a couple pretzels so I have something in my belly to absorb the vitamins. Nothing like feeling nauseous all morning with "phantom morning sickness" brought on by vitamin overload. I'm not a breakfast person, but I make up for it with second dinner :)

If I'm feeling particularly hopeful I might take a prenatal vitamin. {I haven't taken one in 4 months.} Remember, I'm working on choosing joy. Hope fell another rung on the ladder.

Somewhere in that hour I make a coffee, but I hesitate to drink it because I know caffeine is a big no-no in baby making efforts. But I ultimately decide to drown it in creamer and figure that cancels out the caffeine content. It's like the rule that calories don't count if you eat an even amount. Hey, that rhymes so it must be true! Turns out I lack proper reasoning skills. But my Coconut Cream heaven in a cup is approximately 264 calories, (even) so it isn't even worth mentioning.

8am: Drive to work. I find my little 10 minute commute to be the optimal time for prayer. I pray for my friends and my family, that they'll be safe and happy, healthy, seeking God's will. And then it ultimately turns to me and my barrenness. Oh barren brennie! I can only imagine that's what God refers to me as lately. It's Barren Bren again. (Almost sounds like Michael Finnigan. He had whiskers on his chinnigan. At least I don't have electrolocized that problem.) Moving on... I pray that God will prepare us for parenthood. Or not. My prayer life is admittedly apathetic right now. I always thank Him for my husband, my family, and my dog of course! But the thanks end there.

Confession: A typical day in the life of this infertile is not characterized by thankfulness. I contemplate doing Ann Voskamp's 1,000 gifts journal to focus on all the good things God's doing. But I hit every red light (literally and figuratively- on my way to work and on this bumpy road) and make a pouty face instead.

9am: Take attendance {I substitute teach 6th graders} and make a mental note to remove a couple names from my running list of baby name options. There's always a few stinker students that I associate with certain names.

9am - 12pm: Teaching... an excellent distraction. Until one of the students inevitably asks how old I am. I guess they see how short I am and associate my lack of height as being younger, but then they see the bags under my eyes and aren't sure what to think. I usually just say their question is kind of rude and they come back with a guess of 24. Lucky for them 24 was a good year and I'd be happy to stay that age, but I let out a little "cough-twenty-ahem-nine" because honesty is the best policy. Or whatever. I'd be happy if the conversation stopped there, but alas they press on with "How many kids do you have?" "None."  ::Shocked:: They respond with "My big sister is 22 and she already has 3 kids." I come back with "Well isn't that special" in my best Dana Carvey Church Lady voice, of course. My sarcasm goes right over their heads and I console myself by thinking that their sister is going to be a grandma in her 30's. Ha! Joke's on her.

12pm: Lunch. Oops, in all my back-and-forth about the coffee conundrum this morning I forgot to pack a lunch. Drive 4 blocks to McDonald's and consider getting a salad. Order a spicy chicken sandwich and an ice cream cone instead. Whatever. I'm a grown up with no kids to set a healthy example for, so I should at least be able to eat whatever I want, right? At least I didn't get the fries I wanted. Next time.

1-4pm: Teach 3 more classes. Same old. I wonder if wearing a t-shirt that says in bold letters "I'm 29 and childless" would make the day flow more smoothly. Probably not. Plus, it would clash with my outfit adding insult to injury. At some point I pull out my planner. Yes, that same one I bought last year during my epic Valium-hangover sponsored shopping trip to Target after my HSG x-rays. I do some "period math" but gone are the days when I would anticipate this being the month I get a positive pregnancy test, count forward 12 weeks and come up with a cutesy, creative way to announce it. Nope. Period math is now just a way for me to determine when I might be ovulating and to add another month to the still not pregnant list {30}.

4pm: Catch up on blogs and Facebook. 5 more people are expecting. One is pregnant with her 6th. Wow.

All of a sudden I'm queasy.
Infertility ruins everything.

Check my email and RSVP "No" to another evite for a child's birthday party. I of course thank them for the invitation because that's very nice, really it is. But spending all day Saturday at a children's museum with no children of our own mostly feels wrong. At best we look like babysitters and at worst we're just creepy.

5pm: Take Maddie for a walk and pass by 3 families with strollers and kids learning to ride their bikes with training wheels.
Look away.
Look at Andrew.
See the same sad look in his eyes.

6pm: Eat dinner. Hang out with hubby and discuss plans for our next vacation (Boston in May). Talk about the concert we went to last night and how funny the keyboard player's hair was. When Andrew's hair is long it resembles an afro too. I envision what our little boy would look like with a chia pet head of hair and think about maybe adopting. Joking.

7-9pm: Shop online (Amazon, Sephora, Ikea), research places for us to live in San Diego. Go back and forth on renting an apartment or a house because we have been living in a big house in San Antonio which is fun, but it feels so empty being just the two of us. Maddie loves having her own room and all, but it's a little frivolous don't you think? It would be different if I knew we would be expanding our family, but with so many unknowns we might as well live in a teeny place and start saving for our adventures at the next fertility center.

Eat second dinner, of course I didn't forget about that! Take more vitamins. If nothing else they make my pee fluorescent which is mildly entertaining.

9pm: Think about putting on some pretty pajamas and seducing husband. Remember I'm not ovulating for 6 more days and I gotta conserve my energy, so I opt for sweat pants, Dancing with the Stars, and a bowl of popcorn instead. #wifefail. I do share my popcorn at least. Oh, I still have that 3 hour Bachelor finale to plow through. DWTS will have to wait.

Currently: writing this admittedly lame blog post, but at it's core infertility is admittedly lame as well.  On the bright side, it's helping me fall asleep.

bump #46: the more things change

I was thinking about this time last year when we reluctantly made an appointment with a fertility specialist. Remembering how hopeful we were that finally all our struggles to conceive would be over. {Dear year-ago-self, you're a little too optimistic. Dial it down a notch.}

I remember telling the doctor that we would be moving back to California in a year and a half and how he smiled and said, "hopefully with your baby."  {Dear year-ago-doctor, You are so wrong.}

Funny {sad, punch in the stomach, awful} how comforting that statement was then and how much it stings to think of it now.

A whole year has gone by and nothing has changed.

Nothing.

Except maybe one thing... I don't ever want to go to a fertility specialist again :)


No. Certainly something has to have changed.


I am a lot more open to IVF. I was never against it, just never considered it before this year.

Ditto adoption.

I pray more. And I thought I prayed a lot before, but some days I feel like every breath is a prayer.

I'm in the classroom everyday and find myself really valuing each student, every life, a lot more. Even the stinkers! I think about how much someone had to go through to bring them into the world.

I treasure the time I get to spend with my husband, just the two of us. We just got back from spending the weekend in New Orleans and had so much fun. It is so important to make time for fun!

I still struggle with hope. Some days it's easy not completely impossible to be hopeful, to believe that something good is going to come out of all this waiting and hurting. Most days it takes a lot of effort. I suppose that's part of the human experience, but it is not my favorite part.

I was reading through Romans and, as always when reading scripture, was convicted by these words:

"Hope that is seen is not hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we look forward to something we don't yet have, we must wait patiently and confidently." Romans 8:24-25

Patient and confident are not two words I would use to describe myself. They are in fact the complete opposite of my core character. Drats! That's something that needs to change... I'll work on it.

I am learning that this life is made up of more than a few fertile days each month. It's important not to waste all the other days.  I don't want to look back on this time in my life {whether I ever have children or not} and think of it as a waste. Everyday is a gift... but some days are white elephant gifts. I'm learning to deal.

I still feel like I am so far behind. Like all my friends already have so many little ones and I'm just stuck here. {Don't feel too bad for me, at least I have a cute little doggy!}

I saw this the other day and couldn't help but laugh

 because it could have just as easily looked like this:

The more things change, the more they stay the same...

This life has been full of crazy changes, but God is the same yesterday, today, and forever.

He still has a plan. It appears to be a little different than mine.

I need to get on board.

bump #42: the numbers meant nothing

Ok. Here we are again at the end of another failed iui cycle. Ugh. This is all too familiar.

Failed.
Again.

Even though all the numbers looked good.  Failed.

Even though there were 5 healthy follicles. Failed.

Even though we stayed mostly hopeful and positive through this whole ordeal.

Failed.

There are still a lot of questions that remain unanswered.

Why?  Why?  Why?

But there is also this perplexing sense of peace.

When we first stepped foot in the fertility center a lifetime ago in March we didn't know what to expect. {Sidenote: there should be a book entitled "What to expect when you're not expecting" or "Expect the Worst" if you want to skip ahead to the sequel} But we had a number in our heads of how many procedures we were willing to try and how much money we were willing to spend. At this point we tried it all and spent it all which definitely makes us a little uneasy and hesitant to move forward with more extensive treatments {so we aren't going to for a while.}  But even now, broke and empty, there is a sense of peace in knowing that we at least did the best we could with what we have, and no matter what, God is faithful.

I could be pregnant right now and God would be faithful.

I am not pregnant right now and God is still faithful.

We failed.  Still He is faithful.

There is a beautiful song called "I know He knows" by Stefanie Kelly that I first heard years ago at a Hume Lake women's retreat with my mom. I listen to it the most during the really trying times like everyday when I question why God doesn't just use his miracle powers for good and bless us with a baby already.

Why God, why?

I don't know why, but I know He knows.

And that is good enough.

And even when it isn't, when my heart wanders and questions Him,

still He is faithful.

bump #36: another negative

IUI #2 did not work.

Against my better judgement {the last string of sanity that says I sound like an emotional train-wreck and should have grabbed the bowl of Halloween candy instead of the laptop to cope with the devastation} I am publishing this post that is raw and ugly and as negative as every single pregnancy test I have ever taken. Count your fingers and toes and then double it. That's the amount of negativity I'm talking about.  Oh the joys of infertility math!

Suffice it to say that this cycle, this second failed cycle, sent me into a funk that I'm still trying to get out of.

I took all the medicines, went to all the appointments, prayed everyday for a miracle, paid everday for a miracle, and it was all for nothing.

I'm left with nothing.

Well, not nothing... the estrogen patch left a rash on my stomach and turned me into a weepy mess for a solid 2 days. Count your blessings?

I got my hopes up.

I hate fertility treatments because for a split second it seems like the problem is under control, like it's not a losing battle anymore. But it is.

I'm losing it.

Last night in the fifteen minutes I was at Target to pick out my consolation candy bags I passed by 8 pregnant women. The reasonable part of my brain that should have remembered 1 in 8 women experiences some form of infertility and considered that one of them might have had to go through what I'm going through wasn't working. So 8 times I had to fight back tears, take a deep breath, and move on.

I've had to fight back tears, take many deep breaths, and try to move on for a while now.

It's wearing me down.

I usually can see the humor in things, even tougher things, but the only thing remotely humorous about this journey so far is that:
I have pregnacy brain, but without the pregnancy part, meaning I am in a fog most of the time and can't think clearly.
I have gained 12 pounds a lot of weight since beiginning fertility treatments and am still infertile, but am carrying around the extra weight of a hefty baby as a constant reminder of what should be there but isn't.
I experience habitual headaches due to stress about what all these "shot in the dark" treatments and hormones are doing to my body in the long run and, at the same time,
I feel nauseous when trying to calculate how many years it would take to pay off the extensive treatments that are still ahead of me. That nausea, which I can only imagine to be similar to morning sickness, is as close as I am ever going to get to feeling pregnant.

Some consolation prize: If you can't get pregnant, you might as well get crazy, fat, and uncomfortable like a pregnant person. Oh and my moodswings have got to be at least on par with the pregos.
So there's that.

And there's a plan. I know God has a plan for our lives and for some reason it includes all these bumps in this baby-making battle. (Wow, this is bump 36 and not one of those bumps has been a baby. Ouch.) I didn't plan for that.

So what do we do now?

We pray.

We pray that the desires of our hearts would line up with God's will for our lives. I've been praying that same prayer my whole life, and everything always worked out. I mean I always got what I wanted... eventually. But now that simple prayer has taken on a whole new meaning. I might not get what I want, what my heart desires. And I wonder if I ever really meant those words all along. Did I know what I was saying? Can I change my mind and take it back?

No. And if I really thought about it, I wouldn't want to take it back. His plan is greater.

But it still hurts.

Maybe I didn't know that as I prayed that prayer I was actually saying that it's ok with me if God's will is not for me to get pregnant or even to have a baby at all. Maybe instead I was being manipulative and thought that if I just reminded God, ever so lovingly, that I really want to be a mommy more than anything else in the world, that he would alter his will for my life to include that desire.  Maybe this onslaught of negativity on my part is the beginning of me processing that I can't alter his will at all. God is unchanging. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever. I praise Him for that. That yesterday, when I was still hopeful and in a way better mood, He loved me the same as He does today when I'm down in the dumps and the worst possible version of myself.  I'm so thankful that His love is the same always.

And today, though incredibly disappointed by our present circumstances, I am still grateful for His gentle reminder that no matter what battles we are facing, the real battle is already won.

bump #32: relaxing didn't work

No surprise there.

Turns out infertility thrives on inaction or "relaxing" so there will be NO MORE OF THAT!

For this next cycle, it's back to medical intervention.

 IUI #2 (intrauterine insemination)

or the turkey baster method. Thanksgiving is right around the corner, so it's fitting!

The good news is that we have done this before so we know what to expect.

The bad news is that we have done this before and it didn't work.

Hopefully the hysteroscopy in July removed that obstacle.



Our doctor recommended undergoing 3 IUI's before moving on to higher level infertility treatments. There is nothing magical about the number 3, he just said that usually if nothing has happened by that point, it is in our best interest to pursue a different course of action. Which could be another surgery: laparoscopy to diagnose/remove endometriosis or another hysteroscopy if more polyps are present. The earliest he has seen polyps return after being surgically removed is 10 months. But leave it to my state of the art uterus to set a new record on that... please do not accept that as a challenge, uterus.

Here's hoping that IUI #1 was first the worst and IUI #2 will be second, the best!

bump #27: the cure

First off, "the cure" is in no way a reference to Robert Smith and that fabulous 80's band of his. {random trivia: my favorite song of all time is "just like heaven" by the cure} And to all my fellow baby bump seekers, I apologize if you were mislead... I have not found the cure to our present situation, you know, beyond triple-scoop ice cream cones and sephora.com.

The cure that I am speaking of has to do with this:
 

And now I get to wait around for a few days to put my house back together until the paint "cures."
Because after all my reading (ok, so I merely scanned the back label of the can of paint) I learned that

"The paint will not achieve its full strength until it is completely cured...

which is the point at which the paint is as tough and durable as it will get."

This may be the paint fume inhalation talking, but I learned a few things from my painting adventure.

1. I will not be pursuing a career in painting. {Earth-shattering revelation}

This one was easy to come to terms with, mostly because I can't rock the over-alls

that painters are required to wear. No biggie.

2. It takes a really flipping long time for paint to dry

and now I have to wait for it to cure too?!

This is not good for my impatience condition!

which leads to the third lesson

3. I am not finished yet.  2 whole days of painting and it still isn't over.

In real life: I am not finished yet. 2 whole years of trying to start a family

and it still hasn't happened.

The paint has not cured yet and neither have I.

Yes, the paint toxins definitely went straight to my brain, but I think there's a point here somewhere.

This furniture painting project did not turn out like I planned. It took way longer, was super messy, and turned my house upside-down. It is going to be a process to get to the "cured stage."

But once I have my shabby chic, fresh and clean living room these few days of waiting for the paint to dry will have been worth it. 

This family planning project has not turned out like I planned with all of the same aforementioned painting hassles and then some, but it is a process and I am not cured yet. Even if/when God leads us to our family (however He chooses to do so) His work curing me will never be done.

But, in all of this, I am so grateful that I am merely the canvas and He is the artist because my skills with a paintbrush are severely lacking!  

Perhaps I need a cure for turning the everyday mundane experience

into a metaphorical rant on infertility!

bump #21: compartmentalizing

A big word to describe a little of how I feel.

So much of life lately feels compartmentalized. Like I can just tuck tidbits away and only share what I want to with who I want to. It's rather deceptive, making it seem like I have a handle on things. I'm pretty sure I don't have a split personality or schizophrenia, I'm just a selective sharer. Not that I'm not a blabbermouth who over-shares all the time, but it seems like I've had a lot to process in the last few months and rather than lay it all out on the table, I've put it into little compartments to deal with later.

It's later.

And I still don't want to deal with it.

Just so we're on the same page, my "it" is the unattainable baby bump and the weight of equal parts worry and sadness that keep seeping out even though I've crammed them way in the back of the "dangit, I'm still not pregnant" dresser drawer. note to self: I need a better storage solution!

For others it is something else entirely, and of even greater importance than my inability to conceive.
Just so we're still on the same page, my whole life isn't about infertility, only this blog is :)

But whatever it is, hiding it away until a better, later time to deal with it is not the solution.

That is no more effective than putting a leash on a grizzly bear and anticipating a leisurely stroll.

*going to Alaska in a couple weeks, so I've got grizzlies on the brain!*

At this point, I'm just realizing that I need a new coping mechanism.

Symphony bars and spirits might be a suitable replacement (which coincidentally leads me to my vote of If you aren't offering chocolate or margaritas, then shut the hell up as a great title for Erika and Amanda's next book)

bump #16: setbacks

Yesterday morning I went in for bloodwork. {Ouchy! It left a bruise the size of Texas on my arm} I am all too familiar with the phrase "adding insult in injury".  The tests came back negative so our first iui was officially a colossal failure. {This is my surprised face *no expression*} This is most likely due to that polyp they found a couple weeks ago.  So next Wednesday I have an appointment for a salinogram, an ultrasound in which water is used to determine the location and size of the polyp. Sometime after that I will go in for a hysteroscopy, an outpatient surgical procedure to remove the polyp. As if all of this isn't a big enough set back to Project Pregnancy, I will also be put on birth control during that time, (and am not entirely sure what the purpose of that is because after all of those painful appointments I can pretty much guarantee there is going to be no gettin' it on for a while!) In fact, going back on the pill is quite puzzling to me. I'm like let me get this straight, first I took birth control because I didn't want children and now I'm taking it because I do?  Meanwhile 3 more of my best friends from college are pregnant and all due at the same time. Peachy.  And I need to go get gifts for a double baby shower next weekend. The hits just keep on coming!

Note to self:
when I pick up my prescription for the pill remember to also pick up a packet of prozac =)

bump #11: mother's day

Today is Mother's Day.
It is bitter sweet.

I remember last year on this date, clinging to the hope that it would be the last Mother's Day I would have to spend as "not a mom." 

I remember people at church passing out long stemmed roses to all the mothers and having to pass them by. 

I remember taking a pregnancy test that very Sunday because I was a couple days late. And thinking that would be the sweetest day to find out I was having a baby.  But it was negative. Again.


Mother's Day makes me a little bit sad.
Is that terrible? Should I not even be saying that?

It feels like a club that I can't be a part of. Like I'm not good enough to get in.
It's a reminder of what I don't have. What I can't have.

Wagh.

Pity party of one are the words that keep running through my head.

I need to snap out of it. 

Not being a mom is not the worst thing in the world.

Not having a mom would be infinitely worse.

I love my moms (mine and andrew's) and when I think about Mother's Day as being about them {instead of about my big empty belly, house, bank account, etc} it changes my perspective.

It changes my heart.

So this Mother's Day I am going to be grateful for the amazing women in my life,

moms and non-moms alike.

I am also going to snuggle up with my puppy and eat donuts to my heart's content!

bump #9: the bitter bandwagon

I don't sugarcoat things. It's not my style.  My father-in-law has this saying, "it's like polishing a turd."  Infertility is a big fat turd crapping all over my life.

Okay, maybe that's a little extreme, but lately I have been having quite the pity party. 

I blame the hormones.
And facebook.

{Nowhere on the label does it say that one of the dominant side effects of femara is becoming a hater.} So I will say it here.  Those 'hater hormones' have been rearing their ugly head and putting this bren (sans baby bump) on the bitter bandwagon.

The worst is when I log onto facebook. I love FB, it used to be my happy place... all :) and LOL's.
Now it totally bums me out... all :( and FML.

Warning: I'm about to become a tiny bit  lot bit of a b-word. Please try to be understanding of the place I'm coming from, the bummed out, baby-less, bitter place. And please don't hate on this hater.

It's just that every. single. time. I turn on the computer I am bombarded with all these adorable little  - (no, that would be sugarcoating it) big obnoxious pictures of brand new babies and birth announcements and sonograms, which by the way are really wonky looking and should NOT be your profile pic. (sticks tongue out and makes gag noise)  I will of course recant that statement once I have my own mis-shapen blob of a pic of my ultrasound to plaster all over the internet. But for now, I am going to bash on them.

Wow, that felt pretty good. Can I vent just a little bit more?

Not to sound like a toddler, but it's really not fair. These newly-pregos are all newlyweds who just got married like a minute ago.  I have put years. Yes YEARS into this endeavor. Meanwhile they're nonchalantly popping out kids #2 and #3 while I'm still trying to figure out if I'm even ovulating each month. Not fair!

So while I'm still waiting and wishing for a baby I can't help it if I'm also wishing for a few extra stretchmarks and unsightly cankles for all of those perfectly prego people. JUST KIDDING!
(I of course hope that their babies are healthy and happy and all that.)

That's all for now from the brutally honest and {incredibly} bitter band wagon.

bump #4: $$$$

It goes without saying that if you cannot conceive a child naturally, there are going to be some astronomical expenses involved.  I am now acutely aware of this fact.  And of course my insurance conveniently doesn't cover any of it.

We have just barely began the alternate/medical journey to pregnancy and still don't even know exactly what the problem is, which is very discouraging.  The solution: pay more money to take more tests to get some idea of what medicines to take to increase the chances of conception. In all honesty, I prefer the Frank Jr. (of Friends) method who insightfully remarked, "How 'bout you get drunk, that worked for a bunch of girls at my highschool!" Yeah, I could definitely afford a six pack sooner than a round of IVF :)

The toughest part of this stage in the game is that there are are still so many unknowns.


My consultation appointment and ultrasound ($400) were unrevealing.

The HSG x-rays ($300) showed everything as normal, with the exception of an arcuate uterus, which is fairly common and not medically significant.

Next up is the Fertility Panel ($1,000) consisting of blood work to test for anything in my blood that could affect my fertility from diseases to anti-bodies. And I thought having a strong immune system was a plus! Turns out it could also be another obstacle to getting pregnant.

After that is probably a round of anti-biotics, fermara (ovulation inducing medicine - $100), and then an IUI (intrauterine insemination -$1,000) If that doesn't work after a few cycles, then the doctors will suggest IVF ($25,000) which we have decided is not an option for us at this point, and so we will go home baby-less and more depressed.

So no guarantee of a baby, and thousands of dollars down the drain.

On the plus side, I am not currently with child, so

I could drink a six pack of shiner bock if I wanted to!

I have been frequenting the interwebs and stumbled upon a few other gals in similar situations as mine. The fabulous Erika's blog has a particularly humorous yet accurate depiction of precisely what we are going through. It is comforting to know that we are not the only ones.