I have only one thing to say: Megan Fox is pregnant. WTF? Let's add that to list of celebrities and non-celebrities that have been popping out babies like pez dispensers over the past 24 months. Makes me want to barf.

Husband and I were watching Conan last night, a typically inocuous show where there is rarely any mention of pregnancy or babies. In his monologue he mentioned that Megan Fox is pregnant, then when his guest from The Big Bang Theory, Simon Helberg arrived, they were speaking about his pregnant wife and their preparations for the baby. Really? Twice in one show? CoCo, you let us down!

All we want is a break from the constant chatter about babies, pregnancy, infertility, ovulation, etc. Why can't we get one?

Checking In

It's been difficult for me to write lately. I feel like everything is the same, all my posts are full of negativity and misery and who wants to read that? Regardless, here is another post:

We lived through the baptism of Brat and Wife's baby. Aside from a few comments from the priest about motherhood and watching how awkward Brat and Wife were because they didn't know what to expect because they didn't treat the occasion with the appropriate amount of respect, sincerity or reverence, there were very few times I had to choke back tears. Husband and I feel a sense of betrayal because the aunt we are very close to and have been, is spending all this time and emotion on their baby when they have spent nearly no time with her in the past. It's ridiculous that we feel that way, which we recognize, but it can't be helped right now. It was not an awful event, their frat/sorority friends stationed themselves at one end of the porch and the family (Husband's family. We do not mix with Wife's family-they keep to themselves and are late and not social). The division made it more comfortable, as did all the white wine that I downed. The upside was that Husband and I decided we want to have a bapstism separate from mass, just as Brat and Wife did. It felt more intimate and meaningful versus during mass when there could be more than one baby baptized.

Unrelated to that event, today I visited my younger sister and mother. In an effort to diffuse the tenuous relationship I have with my younger sister, I have been trying to spend time with her. There is a history of lies and manipulation on her part, but I can't stand to have issues unresolved, or more accurately I don't like to have strained relationships. Every time I go over there I hold my breath, fearful that she is going to say that she is pregnant again. Unemployed and living with my mother with her 17 month old and husband, it's an active fear that I cannot control. Just like I always expect hearing that from a friend or Brat's wife. No matter how unlikely or impractical it may be, it just feels like another baby is always on the verge of being announced. She has been working hard to lose weight for many months and has made great progress. I joined her and her husband for a long walk today, the second day of sunny weather this year. Luckily, the only announcement she made today was that she has started taking Effexor to help with her anxiety and social anxiety. Then she rattled on about the theme of her sci-fi trilogy she is starting to write. She and I are so very different, it's difficult to tell that we have any biological relation. It was a nice visit.

Ugliness

This post is already a week old, but I still want to share it. It's a rambling post, but it helped me deal with a very difficult week.

I am really struggling. After leaving the RE’s office last month we felt better because we finally had a diagnosis and a vague treatment and conception plan. Two weeks later I haven’t heard from our HMO so I call to follow up. Our HMO had not received the consult letter from the RE. I phoned the RE assuming the HMO was full of shit and trying to cover up their mistake. Come to find out the RE (whom we are expected to pay out of pocket) went on vacation right after our visit and forgot to dictate our consult and send it to our HMO. His little oversight will put us at least a month behind, if not more, in our plan. WTF? It literally feels like the entire universe is against us conceiving. Sounds paranoid, fantastical and even crazy, but it feels so true.

In addition, this cycle I was late. Late with other physical symptoms which haven’t occurred since I was pregnant last June. We hadn’t even thought about getting pregnant this month since the wrong ovary was ovulating, etc. Two days late is a lot for me and so I went to the HMO to take a test. It was negative. That was so frustrating! Had I just started on time, I would never have had any hope, but being late made me think it was a possibility. This all happened earlier this week and I get to end the week with Easter dinner with Husband’s family.

I don’t want to go to Easter dinner with Brat, Wife and their baby for whom my hatred for has been increasing daily.  That baby embodies everything wrong in my life and is a constant reminder that everything just happens for them. It’s becoming increasingly painful because they now spend a bit of time with the extended family, which they never used to do, but now the baby makes them the center of attention, and so there are more people posting photos of her on Facebook and commenting about how adorable and smart she is. She’s not particularly either of those things, she’s just a baby. No more special than any of the other fucking babies in the world.

Her baptism is the following Sunday and they made Husband her godfather, which is great-for him. Now it means we have no choice but to be a part of every fucking function for the rest of her precious pink life. By the way, girls can where colors other than pink. I don’t want to go her baptism. It’s going to be excruciatingly painful to watch the entire family fawn over her and endlessly talk about how cute she is, how sweet she is, what a great baby she is…on and on on. It’s hard to stomach. What is worse is how awful I feel, feeling this way. It’s just the worst part of me, and I can’t control it.

As things get worse for Husband and I on the fertility front, I’m focusing my anger on the people who have pissed me off including that stupid baby. What I feel is straight-up hate and it’s so ugly. That baby didn’t do anything wrong, other than be born to people I despise, and logically I know it’s wrong for me to feel this way toward her. As all the setbacks occur, my job disappointment increases and family b.s. continues, I am slipping deeper into depression. Every choice I have made has led to a less desirable situation and right now I want to go back. Go back to the east coast, back to my dream career that I left, despite being unhappy in the particular office I was in, go back to friends who don’t have babies and can travel or go out without having to time everything around naps and feedings. Things were not ideal back there, but they were at least different than this. Stuck. I feel stuck and it’s making it more difficult for me to handle these fertility issues.

In an effort to educate myself on IVF and other treatments I checked out many books from the library. I’m desperate to find something to help us, mainly me, cope better. The self-help books were shit. I can’t even bring myself to share any of the absurd information because it enrages me. What has been interesting are the memoirs of people going through all this crap. Even though they are all writers, artists, wealthy world travelers, I can still relate to them. To read about their pain, the fighting, the constantly dashed hopes and absolute obsession with having a baby, makes me feel normal. While I am reading, I don’t feel like an outsider, I don’t feel shame or less-than. Connecting with these strangers through their stories allows me to breathe for a moment, to recognize we are not alone (though Husband and I truly are). At the very least these men and women reassure me that the emotions and pain are not in my head, they are real and experienced by all of us going through this.

However, the memoirs either end in miracle conception or adoption and the closer we get to that, the less interested I am in doing so. When we started out I believed adoption would be fine, the deeper in we get, the less willing I am to adopt. I want to be pregnant, I want to carry Husband’s baby inside me and experience birth. I can be honest, it’s not just about having a baby, it’s about the entire experience and I don’t want to be excluded from that. As our options dwindle and the treatments we are facing will require us to mortgage our home I’m getting more desperate to conceive and carry to term a healthy baby. All of this desire and desperation are fueling my anger and hatred. I feel out of control and have no idea how to calm myself down. Drinking isn’t helping, running isn’t helping, holding back and/or sharing with Husband isn’t helping, deep breaths and other new age bullshit isn’t working. Even writing isn’t helping, but I have to get this out of my head.