Monday, November 12, 2012


Things that trigger sadness and/or anger:

The bottle of prenatal vitamins in my medicine cabinet
Holiday movies on the tv channel guide
Christmas displays at stores
Diaper ads on tv (have you seen the new Huggies ad with the dads at nap time? Ugh.)
A crying child
A stroller parked on someone's porch
The three newborns in the waiting area of the Original Pancake House
and a million other things.

When I am getting ready to meet my mom, or friends, I anticipate hearing my younger sister is pregnant again or my friend is pregnant again. Same thing when we are getting ready to go to Husband's family's-Brat's wife might be pregnant again, or I imagine someone saying something insensitive and I plan the various ways I would respond. Basically every time I'm putting on makeup or doing my hair, I am preparing myself for battle.

I have begun planning my route through Target to avoid the baby section. Yesterday I was browsing at a local florist and suddenly found myself in the section of baby gifts, involuntarily spun around and left. Saturday I was shopping with friends and had to come up with a reason to pull away from them to avoid walking the baby section.

It is not getting easier, even as we are in our third year of TTC. Everything is a reminder that we don't have a child. Each holiday we spend time and money on other people's kids and it sucks. I'm tired of putting away money into college funds for other people's kids. We should be saving for our children. We should be excited about selecting gifts for what would be our 9-month old baby, picking out silly, adorable outfits for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Instead, the holidays remind me of our constant heartbreak, of last year when we attempted to take care of ourselves and spent the holiday away from family, which we enjoyed, but were punished for later; the stress of continuing to pretend, for everyone else's comfort, that everything is fine.

As we prepare for a few days out of town for our anniversary, I keep trying to focus on how lucky we are that we have the freedom to just leave town for a few days, something we wouldn't be able to do if we had  a baby. It's little consolation though.

Saturday, November 3, 2012

Trying Anyway

This was drafted on Wednesday, October 31. I didn't post it because it need refinement, but I just don't care anymore. This is what is happening this week.
I really wanted, actually thought, we'd be pregnant enough to share the news at Christmas this year. This of course will not be happening.

Today I had a follicle scan, which after my first dose of Clomid in months, shows that only the right ovary had GIGANTIC follicles, while my left ovary, the one with the tube still available, had eight tiny follicles.

Crying while lying on the bed in the ultrasound room as the tech began, as they always do, on the right side.

Whatever, the details don't matter. What matters is I am so upset that I keep thinking I need to do something drastic: quit my job, tell Brat and Wife what I really think of them, book a trip to Paris for just me...get my job back in Maryland and move away.

As I've said before, each month we are not pregnant, each time I see some fat, poor, ignorant, cruel woman pregnant, I get so angry. It sends me down that list of all that is wrong in my life, all the things I gave up and how stuck I feel and it's all for nothing. Nothing.

I want to burn the Bible, tell my in-laws how flawed their logic is, educate the innocent on pain. I want everyone I come across to know my pain, and to force upon them new pain.

Husband asked me if I was okay. I replied "no, I'm not." when he asked what he could do I told him he could find a baby, put it in my uterus, make it so I could give birth and breast feed. Clearly, I am not okay.

It occurred to me that life does not really go on for us infertiles. This is not life. This is hell. This is bullshit.

Now it's Saturday, November 3rd and I got a positive OPK today. We will try to conceive despite the fact it's the wrong ovary (ironically it's always the right ovary that produces, even though there is no fucking fallopian tube). There is still a slight possibility, right? If we don't try every month, no matter how slim the odds, how could I forgive myself?