Tuesday, October 23, 2007

I feel like rain.

I've been ok the last few days. IUI #2 was on Saturday, so I am 3dpiui. We had 50 million sperm, 65% motile and grade of 3 (whatever that means). I felt *pretty* positive, but then, so did I for IUI #1. I actually went to confession on Saturday afternoon for the first time in about 10 years. When I told him about D (my "friend," whom I don't really like, who is pregnant; she's a friend through marriage), I started to cry. I told him that I can't look at her, can't call her and I can't even think about her. It just hurts and I hate it. I hate that pain that infertility has brought me. Because I never wanted it and never expected it.

He told me that 1) children are God's gift, but like the women in the Bible, those children are meant to "give back to God." I'm still thinking about what that means. 2) My Penance was to call D (which I did) and 3) To realize that this is a part of life that can not be planned for but that he could see I have lots of love to give children and that he would pray for me.

OK. I felt so weepy and wonderful when I left. Meanwhile, at home, Mr. Hysterical is acting like a loon. He can't be at home w/o cleaning something and he was just really distant from me. Sometimes I think the act of the IUI makes him feel secondary and like he had no part in it. Not sure if that is what it was, but he was mopey too. Two mopey people. I'm tired of asking him "what's wrong?" and "did I do something?" I'm tired of that b/c I feel so burdened by what may or may not be happening in my abdomen and the ramifications of each outcome. I honestly feel like I need him to be the strong, funny, optimistic one... and I didn't marry him for any of these qualities. What I did marry him for was his patience. And his love for me, which I can feel in my core. And his logic. And his love of my family. I just really miss Mr. Hysterical right now. I just feel like we're really far apart and I'm not sure what's going on.

He emailed me and told me he missed me and that he went to some fun restaurant for lunch w/ co-workers. I broke. I wrote him and said that he only does fun, spur-of-the-moment stuff w/ his co-workers and leaves the chores and moodiness to me. Of course, I'm guilty of the same (not the lunches, but the moodiness). I told him I was angry. So evidently I'm like a 4th grader today. I feel about as stable as a 10 year old. I just feel like I never see him and when I do, it's chores, RE appts, dinners under duress, stressing about work or how we hate living here, car problems, "what's wrong?" and "what can I do?" and "is something the matter?" I'M JUST SO SICK OF IT. I want my life back. I want my mojo back and our hot dates back and my running back and my climbing back and the me who wasn't jealous of people w/ baby bumps. I hate this crazy, new version of me. I miss me and him and us. I feel like this baby who may or may not exist yet has taken over all happiness b/c this baby is now the only event that would make me happy. I feel like I'm a slave to my RE and to my husband and to all of the expectations of being perfect that I have for myself. I'm so tired. I look tired and I am.

I'm not sure if it's the HCG trigger that's making me this way. That was 6 days ago. But I feel crazy. And I've got a cold coming on. So I'm stuffy and and blowing my nose and clearing my throat and I'm grumpy. All right. Pity party complete.

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Not Invited....

This is definitely going into the "absurdity" category b/c I know I'm being a big baby. I remember when I was about 8 years old and Mark McAllister had a birthday party and didn't invite me. The kid lived 2 blocks away from me and I couldn't figure out what I did to not be invited. I remember walking the two blocks with my sister and looking at his house and the pool full of kids in the back yard and wondering why I wasn't with my classmates and friends. What had I done? I still don't know. Never found out. Must've blown over though because he was my friend in high school. Just bizarre. How you don't *want* to care that you're not invited but it still leaves you with this hollow and horrible pain. That makes you believe no one loves you.

This is where the absurdity comes in. I WASN'T invited to a baby shower... and I somehow feel slighted. I would never have gone and I'm not sure why it bothers me (other than it reminds me of that isolated feeling as a kid). It's my husband's cousin's wife's baby shower. So, you see, of course I wouldn't be invited. However when we went to visit my in-laws this weekend, MIL asked if I had been invited. "To what?" She explained the what and I said, "God no." Trying to put on a face that "Jesus Fuck, no and thank God." Stillllll..... I heard her on the phone later with her sister and hearing that, "No, she wasn't invited" somehow really cut deep. Maybe because it's not my baby shower. Maybe because I know it happened so easily for them and I don't fit into that category. Not even enough that I get to go to the party. Whatever.

Having said that, I'm now on cycle #13, on CD 5. 3rd night of Clomid tonight (which doesn't appear to affect my lining yet as the AFs lately have been heavier?). I'm not going to say "lucky 13" because I remember saying "lucky cycle #3" and "lucky cycle #7" and those didn't pan out. Mr. Hysterical is getting pretty impatient with my negative attitude. I feel bad for him. I feel bad for being such a weak, whiney, pessimistic wife. I don't want to be her. I want to be all zen and positive and blissed out that we're doing something productive with a specialist, for God's sake. But most days I feel cheated and lost and tired. Any ideas on how to shock myself out of that attitude are welcome. I'm tired of it.

We had a friend over the in-laws' house last night (we'll call him "Huggy," as he gives hugs that are a tad bit too long). He was saying how he had no desire to get married and no desire for children. I was even jealous of him. I wish I could have no desire. In fact, 2 years ago I didn't. I did everything I could do to prevent a pregnancy. The Pill, spermicide, condoms, running to the bathroom after sex to squeeze out every last drop of semen. What the hell. I often wonder if I cursed myself. I wonder if others think like that. Anyways, bottom line was that he made me feel so fucking foolish that I'm spending $ and taking drugs and not running or climbing or drinking b/c we want a child. Of course he never said or did anything to that level at all. It was my projection. It was my feeling foolish and seeing that there are humans out there, smart, financially-sound humans who do not obsess about getting pregnant. I felt so one-dimensional and idiotic and boring. So desperate for that moment when all of this will be validated.

And MIL wanted some details re: our treatments. I told her and pretty much pinned it all on me. I didn't tell her about her son's poor morphology. Don't want her to think he's less than perfect. Because he is perfect to me.

Monday, October 8, 2007

Thanks for the advice

It was a busy weekend. I took a Chinese Medicine course to begin learning some new modalities for my bodywork practice. In the course of this class, it came up that I'm going through fertility treatments. (I always make a point to say "fertility" treatments instead of "infertility." I figure they *should* make me *more* fertile, right? Right???) Being open about it with the 12 others in the class was a good thing in the sense that it allowed me to get some treatment techniques and allowed them to gain compassion and also have a plan when a barren woman comes to them for treatment. I felt sort of spoiled in that sense.

BUT there's always that one woman who must share her one tip for success with you. The teacher did a treatment on me attempting to get my uterus to stand up (since it's retroflexed). Whatever. I did have some odd sensations, but I doubt that it "fixed" anything. Before going to lunch, the woman behind me asked me if I had tried flipping my butt toward the ceiling, so that my knees would be by my ears, after sex. I said, "Geesh. No. Have you?" If I understood her correctly, then it would be like plow pose (pictured above), but with bent knees... because after all, you should RELAX a little bit, right? When she asked me, I thought, "Damn. Here we go." Just to embarrass her a little bit, I made her go into graphic detail about this *lucky* position. She claims that it worked both for her and her mother. Of course, if/when I don't get pregnant this cycle, I'm going to be kicking myself that I didn't throw my ass towards the ceiling after sex 2 weeks ago.

I also got the "You'll get pregnant once you put on some weight" comments X 5. I've never been anorexic or had an eating disorder and I'm not even that skinny. I'm on the lower side of normal, but I AM normal. I'm wiry because I did ballet until college. Granted, I have put on some fat in the past 4 months (since my running and climbing have been taken away and since I'm taking fertility meds). I like my new body and I like putting on weight. It's just annoying. I find those comments really, really embarrassing. When I was in the Middle East before I was married, they pegged me as an infertile on just my weight alone. Yet my mother was smaller than me when she conceived my oldest sister and she had 8 of us! Anyways, I'm trying to eat as much ice cream and gain as much weight as I can. I'm tired of feeling self-blame for one more thing that just is. And, yes, as all of you.. I'm tired of getting people's lame advice.

Even though I will try it. ;)

13 dpo today. Boobs are finally quite sore and I have some dull cramps. I'm just waiting for the diarrhea and lower back pain to hit and then we'll know she's on her way. Even though I am harboring a *teensy* bit of hope that there's a baby in there. I guess that HCG booster really does keep AF away. At least those IM shots are doing something! The other weird thing happening lately is that I wake up at 2 a.m. hungry. And I've had lots of vivid dreams.

In other news, my uncle has been ill with esophageal cancer. One of my dreams was about him last night. He's just so sick and this all happened so fast. And I'm so sad. In my sleep-deprived and sensitive state, I told God that I'd give up my baby dreams if my uncle would just miraculously be cured. If that happened, then I'd know that my life is supposed to continue on a different road. I guess I mean that. Sometimes I really don't know what I mean, though....

Friday, October 5, 2007

Ode to Coffee

So, I'm 98% sure that the RE would forbid my coffee. He's already forbidden all of my climbing, running and ashtanga yoga. Those rules I can handle -- sorta. The first two months with the RE, I did manage to satisfy myself with tea. And then the weather changed and I couldn't bear it. I needed my coffee back! I remember our first consult with the RE. He asked about my caffeine consumption and suggested that "green tea can increase fertility." Aaaaaaaaaggghhhh!!!

When I had my annual exam 2 weeks ago, I asked the ob/gyn about caffeine. She said that in "global literature, coffee consumption doesn't cause the problems that are claimed in American literature." Then she threw in this: "Americans are purists, you know." SO TRUE. Sister spoke to my soul. That day, I started having my one cup a day. God bless her.

And that cup of morning coffee makes me much happier. The ritual of making it, the smell, the mini-jolt. I'm tired of waiting and self-sacrificing and trying to be so perfect and ascetic. It's annoying and I don't want the pressure of being the perfect patient/mother/TTC'er any more. Liberating!!!!!!!

I was sure to ask, "Are you sure it doesn't interfere with implantation?" "Definitely not," she replied -- smirking as if she thought that was a silly question. She just warned not to drink so much that the baby is born with the shakes; accompanied with a little demonstration of a baby with the shakes. I won't. Just one cup. Just one damn cup of pure morning bliss.

In other news, I'm 10dpo. Boobs slightly tender and some creamy cm, still. Slight crampiness today, as if AF is impending. Trying not to think about it. But, of course, I am.

Tuesday, October 2, 2007

Things I've Tried...

I wanted to compile a list of conception schemes and devices that I've tried. And have ultimately been unsuccessful. Ahem. Here goes:

1. Sex (missionary position, doggy-style, girl-on-top, in the shower -- all unsucessful)
2. Alcohol ("Have a couple glasses of wine and RELAX... that's how we did it.")
3. Cutting caffeine (made for an unfriendly me)
4. Temping (drove me crazy and my RE is forbidding it)
5. Instead cups (that was a mess... I shall not go into details)
6. Ovulation predictors (couldn't read them)
7. CBEFM (nice, but didn't work)
8. Pre-Seed (why does it work for everyone else the first time?)
9. Mucinex (worked somewhat)
10. Grapefruit juice (did make more mucous... oddly)
11. Green tea (same as above)
12. Pineapple cores (you don't see me talking about my baby, do you?)
13. Acupuncture (had some weird side effects, but I'll try it again)
14. Forgetting about it (only made me obsess more)
15. Pillow under butt after sex
16. Lying on stomach after sex (since uterus is retroflexed)
17. Lingerie
18. Going away for a weekend
19. Fertility drugs and IUI (currently)
20. Mom and blind client guy lighting candles at churches
21. Paying the Blessed Virgin $1 weekly
22. Lucky baby booties above the bed
23. Amassing baby karma (requires being around babies, which only reminds one that you don't have one!)
24. Fertility yoga
25. Poultry and eggs (Read Waiting For Daisy)
26. Prayer
27. Obsessing

The list will continue...

Monday, October 1, 2007


Sometimes I honestly worry about myself. I've had a hard time finding pleasure in life, lately. The times that I feel happy are becoming fewer and farther between. Last night I was awake from 2-5 a.m. I've been waking up occasionally to pee and I'll have this horrible feeling that I'll never be a mother and that my time, $ and body are all being wasted. I've read somewhere that that fear of becoming a mother (or maybe not becoming a mother) is a deep, emotional obstacle to becoming physically pregnant. I stress out. Last cycle, after the IUI, we had a huge argument around 12 dpo. Did I fuck things up?

I compare myself. I think, "that crackhead in jail had sperm enough to knock her up. We'll be fine." Or, "my sister took 4 years to conceive." We will able to conceive eventually, too. Or, "the other sister needed injections, IUI and had 6 follies to get pregnant." That's what I need -- more follies. "She ate poultry and eggs and got pregnant." Make myself an omelette.

I just wonder how much of it is mental and emotional. Certainly emotionally-drained women get pregnant. And teenagers who fret about getting pregnant/jumping on trampolines/getting trashed manage to get pregnant. I'm just worried about how far we'll go, how much it will cost, what my body's capable of, if I'll need a lap, if my doc is a joke. It's just consuming me.

B and I made a list last night of "fun" and "positive" things I can do with him or alone, while he's climbing (I'm not allowed to climb/run anymore). It's a good list. I guess I need to focus on doing nice things for myself and trying as much as possible to get it all out here. I admit I felt better yesterday. Like I purged. Not that I ever have purged... but it was cathartic. ;)

Sunday, September 30, 2007

Where do I put it?

I've been lurking on some infertile/subfertile sisters' blogs lately (by lately, I mean the past 6 months)-- totally reticent about beginning to writing down my own, private trials. Reading their journeys is painful enough. Experiencing life as it is, is painful enough. At least to me, it is. I'd rather have shitty experiences -- the period, the hurtful comment, the pregnant women who are mysteriously drawn to my environment -- and leave the memories in the dirt to die. The problem is that they don't die. They keep me up in the middle of the night. And I know that I have not withstood even an iota of the suffering that other women have. And they survive. They sustain me. They let me know that infertility won't kill me. They teach me. Unbeknownst to them. They get that secret something no one else can understand. The longing. The feeling of failure. Of jealousy. The searing pain. The neurosis of the 2 week wait. The anger that comes with others' well-intended advice. The asking "why?" You are my sisters.

Yesterday at mass, I was feeling so transcendent and full of calm breath. Thinking, "I'm just submitting to Your will, God. I'll wait. I'll do what you want. Nothing is bothering me right now." UNTIL I got home. Checked my email and BOOM, another one is pregnant. And. I. am. not. How many friends of mine have become pregnant since I've been trying to conceive? J.H. D.C. S.K. And now M.D. How many more will become pregnant before I ever do? When is my fucking turn? Jesus Christ. I can't take it. I can't take the waiting. The feeling of unworthiness. The feelings of failure that I've done something in my past to account for this present situation. I hate it. Hate hate hate that I'm turning into a bitter, cynical, jealous bitch. There was a baby shower yesterday that I could not attend. I told the host that I would be out of town. This is true, in a literal sense. I am 2 hours away from where the shower was. But the truth is that I can not set my eyes on this woman. I just can't. Last weekend she sent "belly pictures" to us. I saw them and nearly cried. I never imagined that the pain of this would ever surface. That looking at pictures and hearing the announcements would hurt so viscerally. They do. And the pain has surfaced. And I need somewhere to put it so that it doesn't eat me alive.

Am I losing hope? I don't know. I just can't imagine my body becoming pregnant. I try. I try to visualize being filled with life and carrying my husband's baby. It just seems so far away and so impossible.

I just know that I want to record this. For posterity. And in case of the implausible event that I do become pregnant and bear a child -- I want them and the world to know how I suffered for them. For their existence. And how much they mean to me. And even if they pierce their nose, dye their hair pink and run off with a dirty punk bass player, I wanted them. And I still love them.