Just wondering August 21, 2006

I try really hard not hate pregnant women.

I try to contain myself to jealous longing stares, or quickly move away from the women with the swelly bellies. Sometimes, though the envy gets so strong-too strong for civilians to know about.

Since our donor cycle failed, I’ve seen a lot of preggos, but now I wonder how badly did they want this blessing of pregnancy?

Did they pretend to be pregnant when they were six years old? Did they stick one of their dolls under their shirt and then magically give birth a few minutes later?

Did they dream of what it would be like to see a heartbeat on an ultrasound or hear it on the Doppler?

Have they craved to know what it feels like to feel a tiny life move and kick inside them?

How long have they considered what it would be like to give birth? To labor and touch that magical spiritual world at the border between life and death as they bring a new life into the world?

I wonder if they know just how lucky they are.

I wonder if those pregnant women got a BFP on their very first pregnancy test or a hard earned beta.

I wonder if this pregnancy fills them with joy or with dread. Are they considering adoption? Wishing this accident never happened? Grateful? Hopeful?

And I wonder if I can ever accept that this state of pregnancy may not happen for me.

Chick lit with a side of syringes August 17, 2006

So I’m hanging out yesterday in Target, because I felt the compulsive need to go in for one under five dollar item and come out with a hundred dollar tab. Being the nerd that I am, I do my usual lap through the book section.

I sigh and I notice that all the chick lit authors are making babies. I think Jennifer Weiner started it, but now there are all sorts of cutesy books with rattles on them. Like any good infertile, I hurry by them with a mix of jealousy, anger & depression.

But then lo, there was this book that caught my eye. Happiness Sold Seperately. Now that is a title I can get behind! That is the key to the infertile woman’s literary heart! I open the book and what do I see, but failed IVF’s! Miscarriages! Mentions of Donor Eggs! Main Character Who Is A Bitter Infertile! I was bathed in a warm bright light while a chorus of angels sang softly in the background. Finally a character I can agree with!

Until her husband GOES AND HAS AN AFFAIR WITH HIS TRAINER! Ay carumba! Poor Main Character Who Is A Bitter Infertile. I think if that happened to me there would be a tragic breaking news headline interrupting Days of Our Lives about the crazy lady who scratched peoples eyes out with a used syringe before turning it on herself.

I went to read the end (Hey I almost always do that-what can I say, I’m an Aries girl) and things end interestingly. Realistically I suppose. But it still made me relieved to know that even this fictional character can resolve infertility.

I am so Millie’s ho August 17, 2006

Thanks so much to Millie for the pimping, and welcome, welcome to everyone. And the goodies! Well I might just have to prepare some sweet tea for y’all. I know you southern girls looooooooove your sweet tea. Just turn your heads while I sweep the construction debris under the rug please.

What a girl wants August 15, 2006

He notices her tossing and turning in the night.

He knows what is on her mind, it is the same thing every night. The day keeps it away, but at night the grief comes.

He wonders if she needs a plan. She always does better with a plan. And a plan might help both of them sleep better. He could really use the sleep.

Groggily, he asks her what she wants. Does she want to adopt? Does she want to try donor embryos? He wishes he could give her something to hold on to, to make this easier.

She turns to him and tells him she wants their embryos back. The ones with his sperm and their carefully chosen donor. The one who seems just like her-the only one good enough to act as her proxy. She doesn’t want anything else, just the chance for the impossible to happen.

He pulls her close and hugs her tight.

Maybe another time they will sleep.

Cereal Madness August 14, 2006

Lest you think my new blog here is all gloom and doom and I will never have a child that shares DNA with my husband and myself oh woe is me.

Let me introduce you to one of my great loves:
Cereal

I have many other loves, reality TV, Lindsay Lohan (all though damn girlfriend is making it hard these days), NFL football, knitting with cotton in my adirondack chair on a summer day. But today I’m loving me some cereal. Paul Newman’s Cranberry Macadamia Nut. Yum, fruity nutty crunchy love that. Really how bad can my day be now?

The fertiles are restless August 13, 2006

Honestly it hasn’t been very long since we found out our donor egg cycle failed. We’ve barely made it passed a couple of weeks. The first couple of days were spent sobbing incoherently. After that has been a haze of various adult beverages and not so adult junk food. Throw in The Worst Period In The World, and well I can say I’m definitely not ready for prime time.

Alas, the fertile people in my life think I have had quite enough of this moping about. It started with my IL’s who came for a visit 48 hours post beta and thought I was a weirdo for not welcoming them with open arms. (In fact I wasn’t even there). My own mother has somehow said something to her friends because we are suddenly getting cards explaining all the helpful things they have done to deal with their losses. My friends are either stalking me and telling me to over it, or they are ignoring it. Not to mention the conversations I’ve been privy to about their child spacing or birth stories.

Obviously they don’t get it. But I think it’s something more now. I think my grief has hit the expiration date on the Appropriate Amount of Grief For The Situation. The AAGFTS doesn’t appear to be the time needed for the person affected. Nope, my hypothesis is that the AAGFTS is more for the people surrounding them so they may move on life without to much squishy feelings around hysterically upset infertiles.

Because really, my lament seems to make them uncomfortable. Maybe it reminds them of their own hurts, or they don’t understand that even though there is no funeral service a part of me has died. I’m not sure.

I do know that this is going to take a hell of a lot longer than two weeks to get over.

Bitter Suite August 13, 2006

So yeah, I’m infertile.

So is my husband.

We aren’t your everyday infertile couple either. No way. We are overachiever infertiles. No wussy IUI’s or anything. We’re talking IVF. Not even just IVF, but Donor IVF. You know that last resort the RE pulls out when you get near the end of the line? The one that you hope you will never ever have to use because OMG then you are messing with nature or G-d or whatever the fuck? The one that the average expectant 48 year old celebrity uses even though her publicist will never ‘fess up about it? Been there, done that.

And it didn’t work.

And we are more than a tad on the bitter side.

And so, like many others before, a blog is born. Complete with heavy use of conjunctions at the beginning of a sentence.

Look ma! I’m a blogger! August 12, 2006

Because really, the world needs more infertility blogs.