And another month bites the dust.

I tested yesterday and today, 11 and 12 dpo. BFN. I haven’t felt very pregnant this time around, despite the progesterone, so I sort of knew it was coming. It’s really strange to me that I seem to have such strong symptoms from the progesterone some months and not others.

When I saw the result yesterday I initially felt like throwing things, or breaking something. We tried to stay busy, and as the day went on I began to feel really fragile, like a piece of glass that could shatter at any minute. The worst part of the day was after lunch. G and I decided to go to the zoo (trying to stay busy, but arguably a terrible decision). He dropped me off at the entrance because my hip has been bothering me a lot lately, then went to find parking. It was packed of course, and he ended up driving around looking for a spot for 20 minutes. Then he had to walk another 15 minutes back to the entrance. All this time I was sitting alone, watching all the young families passing by. The zoo is definitely the worst possible place to be by yourself when your feeling lost and baby-less. I tried to keep busy on my phone, but of course I couldn’t help seeing pregnant woman after pregnant woman, baby after baby. I teared up a few times, but (mostly) held it together. Then by last night I was able to joke around with G a little, and felt like I was within sight of normal at least.

So, overall this month has not been as bad as last month. I’m not entirely sure why; maybe the fact that I haven’t felt pregnant has helped, or maybe trying to work through why I’ve been so impatient has helped. I’m glad for this, clearly, but it’s also kind of scary. Part of me feels like if I’m okay with how long this process is taking, it will definitely take longer. More superstition. It also occurred to me yesterday that if we hadn’t made the decision to try one more time after the miscarriage last December, and instead decided to move forward with adoption (I’m definitely going to get around to writing a post about adoption and our issues/thoughts on that front soon), we could very well have a baby by now. This was very hard to think about. I never expected this ‘one more try’ to take so long, and delay us so much. At this point I have no concept of how much longer this ‘one more try’ will take, and then I still have no idea if I’ll even be able to move on at that point either. Since the second miscarriage, every single time we’ve said ‘just one more time’, and we’ve never been able to stick to that decision. If we had, we’d be parents by now and not still suffering. Are we just wasting our whole lives away for no reason? I really have no idea if we’re making the right decisions, or just chasing an impossible dream.

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What do I really beleive?

Yesterday at the end of my post, I said that I didn’t beleive I would ever be one of the ‘The Mommies’. Continuing the discussion, My MMC Story wrote a great post called ‘Is it healthy to be hopeful?’, where she talks about whether or not she believes she’ll ever carry a baby to term.  This has gotten me thinking about the statement I made, and what I truly beleive. Clearly I’m still trying to get pregnant, so it can’t be as simple as I do beleive or I don’t. There’s definitely more going on here. 

So what do I actually beleive? After one and then two miscarriages, I definitely believed it was a fluke, and surely I was meant to carry a baby eventually. I was frustrated with the lost time, but I didn’t doubt that I could or would be pregnant for real. After three and then four miscarriages though, a feeling of deja vu set in. Everything was happening exactly the same way, and I thought I must have been an idiot to think it would be different this time. Now when I start to picture myself 5 or 6 weeks pregnant, I have trouble imagining it without that same feeling of deja vu. I just can’t picture myself making it past this point. I’ve said elsewhere that I have the feeling that its possible that I could have a healthy pregnancy someday, but any given instance will fail. It’s the difference between a hypothetical reality and the actual reality I have to live in.

Yet, despite the fact that I can’t picture it, there is still a glimmer of hope in the back of my mind that it will happen for me eventually. This must be true on some level, or we wouldn’t still be trying. So why do say I don’t beleive? I think the real reason is self-protection. As My MMC Story says in her post, we seem to think that by being negative, it will protect us somehow from the pain if it fails again.

I do this with a lot of things. I expect the worst so I won’t be disappointed. When I was preparing for my dissertation defense, I absolutely did not allow myself to think it would go well. There’s a sort of superstitiousness about this. It’s as if I think that if I let on that I want something, the universe will be more likely to steal it away. So I act as if I’m expecting the worst, and maybe the universe won’t notice. In fact, part of me thinks that it won’t happen until I truly convince myself it’s impossible. This will somehow magically trick the universe into giving me what I want. I’m not just acting and speaking as if I don’t beleive, I’m really and truly trying to convince myself I don’t beleive.

As a method of self-protection (not to mention universe-tricking), I’m not at all sure this method is effective. If I think about the miscarriages where I expected it and those I didn’t, there might have been a marginal difference in how I felt, but barely noticeable. It certainly didn’t protect me from the pain, it hurts no matter what. I want to be practical about my chances, so it wouldn’t be better to pretend everything is peachy, but I could probably afford to be a little less negative. It probably wouldn’t hurt me as much as I think it will.

With this in mind, I tried something new today. I actually walked myself in to a baby clothing store and looked around. I’m convinced that this particular store  was put on the earth specifically to torture me. Their clothes are just so damn cute that it’s painful. Going in to a store like this is strictly against my self-imposed rules, because it lets on that I think I might get to shop there someday.

Shockingly, I didn’t implode upon entering said store. I held up some clothes, and thought about what I would buy if I could. In fact, that aspect wasn’t nearly as hard as I expected. What turned out to be the hardest part was the other shoppers and the saleslady. Immediately upon entering the store, I had this strong feeling that everyone could see straight through me, and could tell that I was an imposter. I felt completely transparent. I kept thinking, it must be blatantly obvious that I’m a *gasp* infertile. But, I fought these thoughts, finished looking around and left. End of story.

So, I learned that I won’t crack if I let myself admit (and show) my little glimmer of hope. It still feels completely and totally terrifying to consider being optimistic, I don’t think I can go that far. But maybe I can handle being just a tiny bit less pessimistic in the future.

“The Mommies”

On Wednesday nights, G and I go to yoga class. We try to make it three times a week, and Wednesday nights just work out well for some reason. Plus the instructor is pretty consistent, we know we’ll get a good work out plus a lot of stretching, not too hard and not too easy. We started going to yoga classes a little over a year ago, and I’m pretty impressed with myself that I’ve kept it up this long. Don’t get me wrong, I’m terrible at it. I’ve only improved very marginally over the last year, and I’m still the worst one in every class we go to (it doesn’t help that I’ve had a series of injuries that I have to work around). The only other kind of exercise I’ve done consistently for a year or more is walking, which is only because you can do it pretty much anywhere and it’s easy enough that I don’t try to come up with excuses to get out of it. Yoga has been like that too, it’s tough during the class, but then you end by laying flat on the ground practically passed out for 5 minutes, so you can’t help but leave with a positive feeling about the whole experience.

It just so happens that right before our beginner yoga class on Wednesday nights is a prenatal yoga class. We’ve known this for a while now, so we usually plan to leave at the last minute, and rush in after all bumps have cleared the room. Given all the other factors involved, it hasn’t been enough of a motivation to avoid this class. But, if we plan badly, or if there’s especially light traffic, we get there just in time for the slew of preggos to spill out of the studio.

Much worse than the pregnant chicks themselves though is the instructor. She doesn’t teach our class, I’ve only ever seen her teaching prenatal classes. She says things like, “great job mommies!”, and “you’re all such strong mommies”, and “don’t worry mommies, I’ll get everything picked up”. Now, infertility aside, I’m pretty sure I would not want to spend an hour listening to this woman. This instantly became a running joke between G and I. “oh goodie, we get to see all the special mommies today!” (to be read in the most high pitched snarky voice you can muster). “look at all the special mommies, in their special mommy outfits, doing their special mommy yoga!”. Thank god G comes with me to this class, if I couldn’t mock them beforehand I don’t think I’d manage to get inside.

Seriously though,  I wonder if I could actually ever take a class like this if I somehow end up miraculously pregnant some day. The annoying instructor aside, I always figured I’d be in the prenatal yoga class eventually. In fact, the first time I ever did yoga was during my first pregnancy. I was feeling so horrifically sick I couldn’t seem to do any regular exercise, so I borrowed a prenatal yoga video from the library to see if it might be a good alternative. I only managed to get through the video twice before I wasn’t pregnant anymore and didn’t have any need for prenatal yoga. I’ve hidden two pregnancies since we started going to our current studio. I couldn’t possibly come out and tell the class I’m pregnant like everyone else seems to do (at six weeks??) because I knew I probably wouldn’t be pregnant for much longer.

If I was magically 4 months pregnant tomorrow, I don’t know that I could go to prenatal yoga classes, and make baby registries, and do all the normal things you’re supposed to do. As much as I’ve been dying to be admitted to the club and finally get to do these things, I’ve built up so much hostility and put up so many walls against anything and everything pregnancy related. I march past the baby section in Target with my head staring straight down at my shoes, and I immediately scroll past ‘maternity photo session ideas’ and ‘what to pack in your hospital bag’ posts on pinterest, as if I might get burned if I peek. I’ve made these things completely off limits to myself, I can’t even start to think about them or I’ll crack. How could I suddenly  be expected to love these things if I got pregnant? I would feel like I was some sort of imposter, or a traitor.

I’m sure part of the answer is that it happens gradually, as you start to trust that the pregnancy is real. The anxiety might pass, but the feeling of being an imposter who doesn’t belong in the club, or a traitor to the version of myself that I am now probably won’t pass easily. I’m not sure I want them to. Ultimately, it probably doesn’t matter because I probably won’t ever be in a position to find out. I can play the games in my head, pretend that one day I’ll make it to the other side, but I don’t really beleive I’ll ever by one of ‘the mommies’.

At last a good day

DSC_0035In the interest of not posting only when things are bad, I wanted to make sure to post today to say that I actually had a pretty great day. It wasn’t a special day, I just went to work, had coffee with a friend, went to a presentation, came home to have dinner with G, went to yoga, and now I’m relaxing on the couch. But all day I just felt at peace with the state of things and happy to be with friends and G. I know this will be temporary, in a week or so I’ll be back to my standard tww freaking out, so I need to appreciate and enjoy the peace and quiet in the meantime.

In other news, a close friend who I’ve written about a few times before might be pregnant any minute. I mentioned before that she recently found out that she has PCOS, was having 40-60 day cycles, and wasn’t ovulating. She tried clomid for the first time this month, and things are looking great. Home ovulation test was positive, and her progesterone levels are looking awesome. She seems extremely optimistic, and although there’s no reason to assume it’ll happen the very first month, the fact that the clomid is doing it’s job is great news. For the last few months (particularly since she found out she might have trouble getting pregnant), she has been a really great support. She told me that she thought she understood what I was going through before, but once she got her own diagnosis it really clicked. Granted, she’s only been going through this for a few months, but I think she definitely gets the fear and anxiety of this process now. I’ve been able to open up much more than ever before and we’ve gotten even closer.

With all of this, I have honestly been extremely happy for her good news. I had to stop and check to make sure I wasn’t kidding myself that I would truly just be happy for her if she got pregnant, but at the moment I really don’t have any negative feelings about it. I told her that I don’t want her to think that she can’t talk to me about it just as much if she gets pregnant and I don’t.

When I found out that we would be ovulating only a week apart, for one little moment I allowed myself to think about how amazing it would be if we were both pregnant (for real) together. I would have someone I could be completely open with about the anxiety of being pregnant (which it seems like regular pregnant women don’t get). I would have none of the frustration I expect I’ll have towards other pregnant women who can just blissfully enjoy pregnancy without that anxiety. It would be just too good to be true. Which is why it most definitely won’t happen. Even if we both get pregnant this month, she will most likely stay pregnant and I won’t. Which means I’m just setting myself up for an even worse fall. As much as I honestly feel happy for her now, I doubt that will be true when I’m in the middle of a 7th miscarriage and she’s happily pregnant. I don’t want to let this change how I feel about her getting pregnant at this point though, so I will just have to deal with it when and if it happens.

This blog post is brought to you by the number 6

It is officially ovulation day for me. I had a clear positive yesterday, preceded by a few lighter tests and a nice lighter test today. It’s about cd 12, so slightly early, but after my day 9 ovulation last month I’ll take it. Since the timing was more predictable this time, we got in two perfectly good ‘attempts’, if ya know what I mean. Would have been three if I’d ovulated on day 13 or 14, but nothing to complain about. So, overall, this cycle is about as good as I could expect a cycle to be. Everything appears to be in place this month.

As of yesterday I was feeling very optimistic about this. Usually, positive opk day is the high point of my month, because anything is still possible. But, already today I’ve dropped in to my usually negativity. When a BFP is just theoretical, I can be optimistic and beleive it might happen. In fact, I do beleive that in some theoretical world it’s possible for me to have a successful pregnancy, and as long as it remains theoretical I’m happy. But as soon as the moment passes from theoretical to an actual egg and an actual sperm that have to do all the right things with each other, and then my body has to not do whatever it did the last 6 times to spit them back out, it all becomes very real.

Basically, I beleive that hypothetically I could get pregnant and stay pregnant, but any actual attempt to do so will always fail. It’s kind of like taking an exam- you might beleive that you’re capable of acing it, but when you sit down to actually take it you lose all your confidence. This has been a really tough issue for me because it’s really tied up in whether or not we keep trying or not. How can I ever give up when I beleive (and the statistics agree) that its entirely possible that I could have a successful pregnancy at some point? But when I sit down to start taking the exam I just know I’m going to fail again.

With all of this in mind, and knowing how miserably I succumbed to anger and frustration last month, I’ve been trying to get my head in the right place for the coming tww. First of all, I’ve adjusted my thinking a little about the chemical pregnancies I had in May and June. A little back story quickly: May was the first month we started trying again since my 4th miscarriage in December. I got a faint positive on day 12 or so, but then the symptoms started to go away right around day 14. I had a feeling, so I took another test and it was even lighter than the first time, and I knew. The next month I was having lots of cramps and started spotting around day 13, and figured my period was starting. I tested anyways though just to be sure before I stopped taking progesterone. I was surprised that it was a full positive, not even faint. I was pretty sure it was going to be another chemical pregnancy given the spotting, but I was out of town and couldn’t go in for a blood test. I kept spotting, but never got a real period, then tested again a week later. It was still positive, but getting lighter. I stopped taking the progesterone and got my period a few days later.

I’ve said a few times before that I wasn’t counting the chemical pregnancies as miscarriages, and I was doing this mostly for emotional reasons. First of all, they just didn’t hit me as hard as the miscarriages. In fact, the last BFN was harder than the June chemical pregnancy- probably because with the spotting I knew it wasn’t going to happen before I even knew I was pregnant. They just passed through before I got attached at all. On the other hand, there’s no medical reason to make a distinction between a chemical pregnancy and a miscarriage; it’s just a matter of how early it happens. From everything I’ve read, medically they probably do count in understanding my situation and risk of future miscarriages.

Which brings me to what I think is the biggest reason I didn’t want to count them. The number 6.  I am completely terrified by it. It feels so unfair to have jumped from 4 to 6 so fast, with so little time to get used to the idea. 4 miscarriages is also a large number, but I had 2 and a half years to adjust to it. This feels thrust upon me out of no where, and just so unfair. A change this drastic feels like the situation is completely hopeless. I mean, if you failed a test 6 times, you’d just cut your losses, right?? The odds are just racking up against me faster than I can keep up with.

With this on my mind, I’ve spent the last week or so fixated on figuring out how to be realistic about the chances of success with a number like 6. I’ve been googling all over the place, desperately looking for examples of people who were successful after 6 losses. There just isn’t a lot of data, presumably because by the time they hit 6 losses, most people have either gotten too old or given up. They are damn hard to find, but there are a few cases out there of successful pregnancies after 6 or more losses.

It’s going to take some time, but I’m trying to come to terms with the number 6. It’s a little like my identity has suddenly changed, and I need to figure out who I am again. The biggest reason to do this right now is that I’m hoping it will help me handle the tww. If I count from June as the last time I was pregnant, we’ve only been trying 3 months, rather than 5. This is really a silly thing to be taking so seriously, but it actually does help. I’m terrified that I’ve hit some tipping point (um, turning 30 maybe??) and on top of everything else, it will be harder and harder to get pregnant each time. So, there’s a definite trade-off here. I’m hoping that by thinking that this is only month 3 of trying, I won’t be as upset if and when it’s another negative.

Is today over yet?

I found out today that I need to have hip surgery. It wasn’t a total surprise, I’ve had hip/low back/knee pain for six months or so, and it hadn’t improved with weeks and weeks of physical therapy, rest, or anti-inflammatories. I was scheduled to have an MRI about a month ago when I found out I ovulated early, and had to cancel it. I’m really glad I did, because in the meantime I decided to fire my orthopedist and find a new one. He was kind of a jerk, and couldn’t be bothered to answer the most basic questions. The final straw was when his office didn’t return my calls for three weeks.

I saw a new doctor today and he was a million times better. He took a few more x-rays and after about 3 seconds of looking at them was ready to diagnose it as a hip labral tear caused by femoral acetabular impingement (FAI). I don’t know the details, but basically, there’s something odd about the shape of my femur that made a tear really likely. For a long time the pain wasn’t bad at all, and I thought it was just lack of flexibility and whatnot so I pushed myself really hard and probably made it much worse. Bottom line is, if I don’t fix it I’ll probably end up needing a hip replacement at some ridiculously early age, and if I do fix it I could still end up needing a hip replacement. Grrr.

So after the quick diagnosis, my new and improved doctor suggested getting in to do an MRI then scheduling surgery asap (insurance won’t cover surgery without an MRI first, even though he’s sure of what it is- excellent logic insurance guys). After the surgery I wouldn’t be able to do weight bearing activities like carrying around a fetus for at least four months, so what followed was the semi-humiliating experience of me explaining my pregnancy history. For most normal people, holding off getting pregnant for four months shouldn’t be a big deal, so I had to explain why I wasn’t willing to stop trying right now. I had to explain that most likely I will have another miscarriage before long and so I’ll be clear for surgery in no time all. Plus, I’ll probably never have to worry about carrying around a full sized fetus, so yeah. Despite being a doctor, he reacted just about the way you’d expect any guy off the street to react- he was super uncomfortable. He didn’t really know what to say, and just said, ‘well it won’t hurt to wait a little longer to have surgery’. I don’t blame him, he’s an orthopedist, he probably chose that area of medicine to avoid ever having to deal with ridiculous hormonal infertile types.

So, there are several unfortunate consequences of this situation. A) I will have hip/back/knee pain for a while longer. It’s not the end of the world, I can handle it, but it’s definitely annoying. B) If I manage to get pregnant and somehow have a normal pregnancy, it will probably aggravate the problem and I’ll have even more pain. Not too worried about that at the moment. C) If I have another miscarriage, after dealing with a D and C (just assuming I’ll need one, since I have every other time) and the very likely depression that comes afterwards, I’ll immediately have another surgery and recovery to look forward to. I’m pretty sure this is going to make an already depressing situation much worse.

The recovery time is 10 days on crutches, and no driving since it’s my right hip. Then I’ll have to avoid weight bearing exercise for four months. This is going to be really really hard because I have a really tough time motivating myself to exercise, but I still have enormous guilt if I don’t exercise. I’ve finally gotten a routine that works for me- walking 2+ miles 4-5 days a week, and yoga 3 days a week. I’ll have to give up both of these. I could do low impact exercise like swimming, but it’s not like I have a pool in my back yard. I’ll probably end up needing to get a gym membership to use the seated bike. I kind of hate the sound of this, and I’m worried instead I’ll just end being a lazy piece of crap for 4 months. Plus, I’m already the worst one in every single yoga class I’ve ever been to (not joking, even 60 year-olds trying it for the first time are stronger and more flexible than me…). I’ve managed to improve just a teeny bit since I started a year or so ago, and I’m going to lose all of that and start over at square one. I really think this whole thing is going to be a mess and I’m not sure how I’ll get through it on top of dealing with another miscarriage.

I also happened to catch a pregnancy announcement on FB  today that I really wasn’t expecting. It’s G’s cousin, and they haven’t even been married a year. I’m not FB friends with her, so I didn’t see her original announcement a few weeks ago, and instead just caught an off comment she made on another family member’s page. I literally screamed ‘ARE YOU F’ING KIDDING ME???’ at my computer screen. This announcement hit G harder than I expected too. He happened to get home from work early, and was stuck at home feeling crappy for a long time before I made it home. By the time I got here he was looking really dejected and lonely. This is so completely unlike him, I was really surprised. I tried to get him to talk about it, but all I could get out of him was that he feels like life is passing us by. Ditto.

And as if that isn’t enough for one day, my poor baby kitty is a druggie. For real. She’s on some serious narcotics and totally stoned. We took her to the vet yesterday because she’s been peeing outside her litterbox, and they found blood in her urine. The vet is pretty sure it’s nothing serious, but one of the possibilities is a lower respiratory disease that’s treated with painkillers. They gave her a shot that lasts a few days and she’s totally loopy. It would be adorable if it wasn’t so sad. I’m sure she’s fine, and she seems to be enjoying her trip in the meantime, but she’s just my little baby and I hate seeing her like this.

Thank god it’s the weekend tomorrow….

Resurfacing

It’s been a few days since my period ended, and I guess I’ve bounced back from the low point of the TWW. Although bouncing back is probably not the right metaphor. It’s more like I was pulled under, and now I’ve resurfaced. I really hate this pattern, and I so wish it didn’t have to be this way. Which has really gotten me thinking a lot over the last few days. This will probably be a pretty serious post, I have some stuff I need to get out of my head and onto ‘paper’. Sorry to drag any patient readers into my head, but I’m hoping if I write it all down I can possibly move past it a little. I guess we’ll see.

So, the hardest part of the past (almost) three years of infertility have been my lack of patience with how long this whole thing is taking. Every month that goes by, and really, every day, feels like a million years of waiting. I’ve described this as impatience, but the more I think about it, it has to be more than that. Impatience is when you can’t wait to go on vacation, or can’t hold off on eating desert until after dinner. This is definitely more than that. When I think about another month of not being pregnant, I feel lost and helpless. If I think of having to wait another year, I’m downright disgusted at the idea. So, I asked myself if I knew I would have a baby for certain at the end of five years, could I wait that long? The obvious answer is yes, because that’s the whole point here, right? But the idea of having to wait that long, even knowing it would work out in the end, is extremely uncomfortable to me.

The more I thought about this, the more I started to realize how ridiculous and irrational it is. There is every reason to think that I will have to wait a lot longer before I manage to have a baby. Maybe I could get pregnant this month, but even if I did, it would probably end in another miscarriage. Most likely I will have at least one more miscarriage, and so even if I do go on to have a normal pregnancy at some point, it will be a long time before I have the baby. If we decide to move on and adopt, it will definitely be at least a year and probably much longer. So, this whole process would just be so much more bearable if I could accept the fact that its going to be a long time and expect it. In other words, I would be much better off if I could start playing the long game. Thinking about things from the perspective that I will have a baby at some point, and a few months here or there shouldn’t matter as long as I get there in the end.

But honestly, even knowing how much easier things would be that way, and knowing it’s the rational approach, I hate the idea of it. It feels like giving in. It feels like, if I say I’m okay with it taking 5 years, it definitely will take that long. It feels extremely uncomfortable to me to think about days and weeks and months to come with no progress. This tells me that I have some weird stuff going on inside my head, and I need to try to sort it all out or I’m just asking for trouble each month.

So, as all of this has been rolling around in my head for the past few days, I’ve been trying to figure out why I have this irrational fear of waiting for a baby. I think somehow I’ve gotten to the point where I beleive that my value as a person is based on my ability to reproduce. This is surprising to me because it goes against everything I was raised to beleive, and it goes against everything I’ve done with my life up to this point. I was not raised to beleive that being a mom was the most important thing I could do. I was pushed to have an important career and do something valuable or impressive in the world. When I met my husband, I made it clear that I would always work and my career would have to be as important as his. In fact, up until a few years ago, I was probably too far to the opposite extreme, in the sense that I was determining my entire value as a person on my ability to be successful as an academic. This is something I had to work on pretty hard with a therapist, because I felt that I was failing at my job, and thus had no value. There’s much more to that story, but ultimately I think I moved past it to a large degree, and I’ve tried to get to a place where I can just be happy with doing a good job at a job that I enjoy, and not worry about being competitive or impressing people.

But, I think in the process I might have gone too far to the other side. After grad school I took a job that isn’t competitive and doesn’t make me a huge ball of anxiety. I’m a happier person and I’m glad I did it, but I’m struggling with feeling like what I’m doing isn’t impressive, and that people will think I’ve failed. Basically, my anxiety now is that people will think I’m a failure, and so I’ve tried to find something else to give me value instead.  And that something became having a baby. If I’m not going to be a high powered driven academic, then it would at least be justified if I had a bunch of kids and was an amazing mom. It would give me a purpose and a value that I apparently feel I’m missing. I think I was holding out, thinking that it was okay that I didn’t have an important, impressive job because soon I’d have kids and that would make it all worth it. But instead, I just ended up with neither.

Rationally, I think this is all ridiculous. No one, including me, should need to have an impressive career or kids to be valuable. I’m a good friend, I have a great husband and family, I do useful and fun things with my life. But for some reason none of that feels like enough.  I wish I knew how to change my attitude about this. I’m hoping that putting it all out there and shining the light on it will make me see how dumb I’m being. Honestly I think it’s so important that I get past this because having kids isn’t going to suddenly fix all my problems either. I need to be happy with myself and my life, or what kind of role model would I be for my kids? Hopefully I can start to rethink things a little, and if I’m lucky, maybe it will make it just a little easier to handle the (probably inevitable) wait that’s still to come.

Diamonds are a (pregnant) girl’s best friend…

What in the hell is up with all the pregnancy ‘rewards’ out there lately?? Maybe it’s just me, but it seems like suddenly there are all these new trends to reward pregnant chicks, as if the BABY is not reward enough…

I just innocently clicked over to the gap website, and they have an entire freaking section called ‘Babymoon Essentials’. The ad showed up right on the front page of the website. Not sure why this ad is showing up for me, since god knows I’ve never ordered anything maternity or pregnancy related from the gap before (duh). I think it might be time to give my cookies a nice clearing out in case there’s something hiding in there from a search I did in a weak moment.

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Similar but much worse than the babymoon (for which there are apparently essentials) is something insane called a ‘push gift’. This is where someone (I assume it’s supposed to be your spouse) gives you a piece of jewelry or some shit to somehow pay you off for the pain and suffering of giving birth. I learned about push gifts from my absolute favorite pregnant lady (can you hear the dripping sarcasm??), whose blog I’ve written about a few times now. She got her push gift a few months ago for mothers day- some diamond encrusted piece of crap that probably cost more than all the jewelry I own combined.

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I mean, I know pregnancy and giving birth are hard and all, but are we serious here people?? I mean, pregnant chicks already get literally showered with gifts, every door held open, free food in restaurants, and who knows what else (not me of course). Pregnant ladies have always been treated like freaking royalty, all for basically being able to do something that rabbits have been doing for millions of years. But none of that, plus a perfect healthy baby, is enough apparently. Let’s give them diamonds too.

K, rant over now.

Three days, three BFNs (angry, negative blogger warning)

dark clouds3 days, three tests, three pink lines. That just about says it all. I just want to scream, or cry, or throw something. I am almost definitely not pregnant. I’ll keep testing for a few more days, just in case, but there should be something there by 11dpo, even just a barely there faint line. I’m just not sure how much more of this I can take. The thought of more months of this, testing and waiting, and testing and waiting, it makes me not want to get out of bed in the morning.

I feel like it’s just never ever ever going to happen. I feel like I’m in a deep hole without a ladder. There is no way out of this hole. I will wait eternities to get pregnant, just to miscarry. We’ve all heard of the women who had 10 miscarriages before having a success. If it took me six more miscarriages, and it took me five months to get pregnant each time, plus the time for pregnancies and recovery, it would be 5 more years before I had a baby!! The thought of adoption is not only unappealing to me at this point, but feels like it would never work. My issues and emotions around adoption are a topic for another whole post, but to keep it short I feel like I couldn’t emotionally make it through the process, because I’d have in the back of my mind that we didn’t have to be doing it. We could always keep trying. Just trying isn’t costing us much money (at least until I need another surgery), so how can we pay $40,000 and rip out our hearts emotionally when we don’t have to? I have absolutely no means to change my life, except to give up having a family. And that’s definitely not an option.

I know I’m being overly negative. First of all, there’s still a chance it’s too early. If I was off by even a day or two about when I ovulated (which is possible), it might still be just a little too early. Plus there’s the fact that I’ve been peeing so much during the night (warning- tmi coming) that my pee is practically clear. Maybe it’s just way too diluted to get a valid result this early. Before testing this morning when we were still in a half-way decent mood G and I joked that we should boil my pee down before testing.

I also know that it hasn’t actually been an eternity. It’s been four months, and two of those I had chemical pregnancies. In my mind those should count towards time trying, since I don’t really see them as real miscarriages. I know not everyone feels the same way about this, but to me, they were just wasted months. I was seriously annoyed, but there was nowhere near the emotional devastation and recovery of a miscarriage. I just got my period and ovulated again the next month. That’s just my own feelings though, not to take away others’ right to be very upset about a chemical pregnancy. My point is though, if we counted those as miscarriages, it would only have been two months of trying. I’m not sure that makes me feel better, but at least it might imply that I’m not losing my ability to get pregnant.

I just don’t even know what to do with myself at this point. Every day of waiting is another small torture. Haven’t I paid my dues yet?? Will it EVER be my turn???