Country Style

Well, I went in for my 2nd "porn" ever on Friday and everything looked really good. I had 2(!!) very good sized follicles and a 3rd that was medium sized. My doctor thinks that I will release both(!!) the eggs from the large follicles and possibly the 3rd(!!!). There's something very surreal about lying on a table spread eagle while your tiny Asian doctor is poking around your lady parts with a large object. The most unusual part of it all is that you are squinting at the screen trying to figure out how in the hell they spot that follicle so quickly and what makes them so sure they are telling you the truth!
But I digress... the most important part of this story is what comes after... the sex. We are once again back at hump fest. The only problem is that hubs was out of town all last week. We knew that the impending ovulation was going to happen sometime this weekend, so we made plans to meet in the middle.

At his parent's house.

We usually go one weekend a month to visit his parents so it seemed logical that since he was already in that direction that I just meet him there for our visit this month. That being said... we had to do it.

A lot.

At his parent's house.

My in-laws are really awesome people and I love them dearly, but they live in the country. Like they own 80 acres and have horses, chickens and rabbits country. They also eat fried eggs and bacon for breakfast every day. And all the bedrooms are in one section of the house. And the mattress we were on is like 50 years old.

Do you see where I'm going with this?

Hubs and I sure had to be tricky to keep it quiet (not us, the mattress!) Also, we went fishing and fed horses and fixed trucks so it was quite the fiasco to get in 3 days worth of baby making. I really hope I get pregnant this month, however, it will be quite the memory of how the conception occurred if I do.

WTF? (Or How Clomid has Made Me Crazy)

Today is officially the cross street of Clomid Road and Crazy Lane, although it started a few days ago. I am a nut job.

So far, I have been mad about the following things:

- Lux Lisbon's skinny little waist
- My scale
- Myself for stepping on the scale
- Myself for gaining (more) weight
- Miniature Babe Ruths for being so good
- Myself for being too hard on myself
- The freeway
- Email
- People who mumble
- Fertility Friend
- My husband for being too busy to make me feel better
- Oh yeah, the Clomid
- My job for not letting me bring booze on days like this

There are, quite literally, a dozen more things I've been mad about. In my head, I know I am being hormonal and irrational, but that doesn't stop me from being hormonal and irrational.

I'm really considering a beer (**) and frozen custard binge. Or at least getting off work early for a nap.

Perspective

I haven't really accepted that I am "infertile." I'm not sure I ever will. My body is healthy and normal and so amazing. (As in, it does amazing things, not that it looks all that amazing.) The last year or so I have really worked hard at trying to come to terms with the way my body looks. I am not a small woman. Even if I lost all my body fat, I would probably still not be a size 6. I'm solid, muscular, tall and wide. I am always going to have to buy a size large and wear a size 10. It's just how I am built and although I'd sure love to wear a bikini again, I think I've resigned myself to be ok in tankinis from here on out. It's a work in progress to get into this mindset but I am in my 30's now so I think this new found wisdom is due to my maturity. (ha ha!)

Before becoming mature and infertile, I wasn't aware of the vast network of IF'ers out there. Since starting this blog, I have come in contact with many other women and their writing. I am excited every day to read through their posts and look through their blog lists. I have literally spent hours reading other peoples' works and it has given me so much perspective.

I am humbled. Truly humbled.

There are some ladies out there who have had it so much worse than me. I have cried through posts of people losing full term babies, women who have done dozens of IUI's and IVF's and have still never had a positive pregnancy test. I think it is important for me to remember that yes, some of my problems really, really suck, but...

it. could. be. worse.

And it really could be.

Awesome*

So there's a post on Stirrup Queens about linking infertility and autism (read it here.)

Fucking awesome. Super. As if I didn't have enough to worry about.

The thing that pisses me right off is that the article itself is saying that there may or may not be a link to fertility drugs and autism. They don't even fucking know. Yet they are publishing a God damn article on it so that every woman that is taking fucking Clomid can sit at her desk and wonder and worry if she's doing the right thing.

I don't know very much about autism. I don't know what people have to deal with or why their children have autism and mine doesn't. And it's great that people are trying to figure out what is causing the increasing numbers of autistic children, but I felt like this "study" was grasping at straws.

And it makes me mad! Let's get everyone all worked up about something that might not be true instead of finding conclusive, legitimate results. If it is true, then hell yes I want to know, but this article is fucking lame and I hate it.





*This eloquent, R-rated post is brought to you in part by my hormone ravaged Clomid brain.

The Giant Tooth

My sweet boy (Bugs) is 6 years old. He is just about to finish kindergarten. At school there is a giant, laminated paper tooth on the wall. Whenever a child loses their first tooth, they get to write their name on the tooth and have a little celebration about it with their friends.

The only problem is that Bugs hasn't lost a tooth.

It is nearing the end of the school year and he is devastated that he isn't going to be able to write his name on the giant tooth. A few weeks ago at the dentist, he even asked lots of questions about when he would lose his first tooth. To be honest, I did too because if every other kid in his class has their name on the giant tooth, why doesn't Bugs? The dentist reassured us both that boys can lose their teeth later and that we shouldn't worry. He'll lose a tooth within a year or so.

Bugs was upset. He wants to lose a tooth NOW. I wanted to tell him that I feel his pain, but mostly I had to give him a mom speech that his teeth just aren't ready yet and that he has to wait until his body is ready for a loose tooth.

Also, I just love his little smile and can't imagine him with a hole in it yet. Maybe I'll make a giant tooth for his wall when it happens so he can write his name on it.

Distractions

I am known as a sarcastic prankster. Some people say I am mean, but I'm not. I just like to tease people and play jokes on them. Have you read Chelsea Handler's book "My Horizontal Life"? Each chapter in the book is about a one night stand.

It's awesome.

She is super funny and lies about random nonsense that doesn't even warrant a lie. In one chapter, she pretends to be her own twin, Kelsea. So this gave one of my besties and me an idea. For awhile, when we went out, we told people we were twins (Chelsea and Kelsea) but we had different dads. You see, our mom had 2 uteri (is that a word?) and had 2 different lovers that got her pregnant in each uterus.

Anyway, I hang out with Chelsea a couple times a month for girl time and for messing with people. This week, I met a friend of hers, we'll call him Tad. She warned me before he got there that he was sometimes a little inappropriate but was a nice guy. I think Chelsea forgot just how inappropriate we are together. We were all chatting at the fire pit and joking about falling in the fire. There was a grate over the fire with a large dent in it and Tad asked me if I had made the dent when I fell in.

My reply, "Are you saying I'm fat?"

Silence... then laughter.

More chatting and then Tad was trying to one up me on the inappropriate scale. I turned to the other people at the fire and said, "He just said I'm fat and that he's using me for sex."

Peoples jaws dropped. I thought Tad was going to shit himself.

Then my friends and I just started laughing and made it known that it was a joke. I don't think Tad stopped blushing all night.*

I thought this would be a really funny story and now that I have it typed out it really does seem awful and inappropriate. But this is a true life story of Kelsea and Chelsea and that's just how we roll.



*P.S. Tad recovered but I don't think he wants to hang out with us anymore.

Shut Your Fat Mouth

So a bunch of my girly friends know that I am taking fertility drugs. They use this knowledge against me.

Bitches.

Whenever I bring up the pregnancy topic (which is quite often and I'm sure they're sick of hearing it,) they start up about how I am going to have triplets or quadruplets. The funny thing is in my head I'm thinking "game on!" because I'd be happy to just stay pregnant, even if it is with multiples.

So I've decided that if I do have triplets or quads (which is unlikely) then I am assigning each of my friends shifts where they have to come over and change shitty diapers and bring me meals. And then I'm going to leave them with all the babies and take a shower and a nap.

They might not come over anymore but I have some pretty good dirt on all of them, and I'm not opposed to blackmail. They started it.

Expectations

I have been reflecting a lot today. About expectations. More specifically, about expectations that are not met. You might think that I am talking about not being able to get pregnant, and although that is a part of it, my focus is more general. What do you do when your life's expectations are not met?

I had an idea of marriage. Of my marriage. And what I would want it to be. I have had this idea forever. Whether it was deciding what my parents showing me was right or wrong or dreaming up what my home or children would be.

I had an idea of money. I went to college and earned a degree so that I would always have a successful job and make enough money to sustain our lives as well as save for the future.

I had an idea of family. How many children I would have, what their age differences would be, what their names were, what sports they would play, and what kind of education I wanted to provide for them.

So, the good news is that I have a marriage and a lovely, lovely child. Although I don't have a lot of money, we somehow seem to make ends meet each month.

But it is not what I expected.

I knew my husband and I would have hard times, but I never expected it to be as hard as it is, as often as it is. We are both very stubborn and tend to butt heads quite often. We also have different expectations about where our future will land us and that makes me nervous for us. And although we make ends meet each month, we are still in debt and can't seem to create a savings account or a college fund. And the children part, well, I can't really control that but it does add some increasing pressure and sadness to our lives that we can't seem to get another one.

So my point of this very depressing post is this: How do you adjust your expectations without feeling like you are settling for less than you deserve?

I am working very hard on focusing on the big picture. My husband has a successful business so one day it should make us some better money right? My son is amazing and smart and super good looking and he gets to live with his mom and his dad every single day. Although my marriage isn't what I expected, it does make me happy most days and my son deserves a family.

So I'm thinking I have some small piece in the happiness puzzle. I mean, if there's some object or person disappointing you constantly, you could probably give that up. But this is my life! I can't just quit it. I just have to find a way to fine tune it I suppose.

It Didn't Work

So, the first cycle of Clomid, monitoring, and trigger didn't work.

I'm sitting here at the keyboard, trying to decide what to type about how I feel about that. In all honesty, I am just not surprised, and therefore, somewhat ambivalent about the whole thing.

I guess I'm just one of those lucky optimists that can move on to the next cycle rather easily. I have already spoken to my doctor and increased my dosage to 100 mg for this cycle. I will go back for monitoring again in about 2 weeks to see if the increase will help with more follicles, and I have scheduled some dental work that I was holding off on until I knew if I was pregnant or not.

I'm. Not. Pregnant.

I guess it does sting a little.

Letting Go, A Cliche by Me

So my husband is really in to "The Secret." Have you read the book or seen the movie? The basic idea is that the entire Universe operates on the "Law of Attraction." Meaning, if you want something really bad, you just act like you already have it in your life and because of this attraction, what you want will come to you. I am not explaining it very well, but hopefully you can get the gist.

So most conversations with my hubby go like this:

Me: "I really want... (insert anything here.) say, a new pair of shoes."
Hubs: "Well, picture yourself wearing those new shoes all day for a few days."
Me: "Well that doesn't help me get the money to buy the shoes."
Hubs: "Picture yourself getting a check in the mail that is just enough money for you to buy your new shoes, and then picture yourself buying and wearing the shoes."
Me: "How does this help me get the shoes in any way, shape or form?"
Hubs: "If you believe that it is a part of your life, then it is."

Do you see how damn infuriating conversations like this would be? I love the premise of The Secret. I love having a positive attitude and visualizing making something happen that I want to happen. I believe there is a lot of merit to this idea. HOWEVER, I am just a little too realistic to believe that if I visualize strongly enough that the shoes are magically going to be on my feet.

Except with pregnancy.

I have believed I was pregnant every. single. month. since we started trying nearly 30 G-D months ago. I confuse PMS symptoms for pregnancy symptoms. For awhile,I stopped drinking alcohol and caffeine. I can actually feel my daughter's soul out there somewhere, just waiting to make her beautiful entrance into my empty, yearning womb. She's there, I just know she is. My life has a daughter in it. Just not yet.

So, in this week's breakdown, I asked my husband how if The Secret is really and truly true, why I can believe and visualize with my whole heart adding another baby to our family and it hasn't happened yet. I spelled out every detail about how I plan new shirts based on them still working while I'm pregnant, how I have the baby's room all planned out, and how I can feel her out there waiting for my arms to hold her. His horribly honest, lonely, and absolutely true answer was, "Well, now you have to just let go. You can't control how it happens."

Damn you.

He's so right. I hate it. I really have to stop forcing the intercourse, taking a gazillion pregnancy tests, and being so damn angry every time I am not pregnant. It doesn't mean I have to stop believing I will get my daughter someday. At least not yet. If it comes to that, then I can deal with that in the future. I've wanted this baby for so long that I really have no clue how to "let go." I have this idea that when I do, it will be liberating.

Private Parts

When I was growing up, I was horribly embarrassed to be seen in the nude. As I got older, it got worse. At sleepovers or in gym, I would go to the bathroom to change so nobody saw my B cups. I'm not sure how or why I got this little nudity complex because the rest of my family doesn't seem to have it. My sister will, in fact, poop in front of me. (That's weird right? I'd never just sit down on the toilet in front of someone and poop.)
I find it hilarious and liberating how open most children are (not like I was) when it comes to their bodies. They are naturally curious and not at all ashamed. They know that their "private parts" aren't supposed to be shared with the world, but they run out of the tub bare-assed and shake their butts anyway.

My point is that when it comes to talking about my life, I am bare-assed and doing the Macarena. I really have THE biggest mouth on the face of the earth. During the last miscarriage, I went out of town with some girlfriends, and when I picked up my friend, I was visiting with her and her husband and found myself telling them that I didn't bring my swimsuit because I was having a miscarriage and couldn't use tampons. Crickets started chirping and a tumbleweed blew by. My friend's husband couldn't leave the room fast enough.



My husband, on the other hand, is like Area 51. He is the vault. He doesn't tell anyone anything at anytime. Including me. I told my best friend about the infertility testing and he just happened to overhear me telling her how much the semen analysis cost. After I got off the phone he politely asked me not to discuss his semen with anyone. His whole family is like that. I can't imagine they ever poop in front of each other. And no, he has no idea that I have a blog all about his semen and our sex life. (And also why this blog is anonymous.)

So what is it about me that makes me want to talk, talk, talk about my life? I have given it a lot of thought over the past few months and decided that it is because I view my life as one gigantic learning experience. I am never embarrassed or ashamed to talk about my life because I am learning as I go. I like to discuss the dirty details with my friends because it is just the human experience that makes me, well, feel.

Re-Virginizing, Otherwise Known as the 2 Week Wait

So after you've had multiple days and weeks of non-stop sex fest, you know what your vagina wants? A nap. A good solid week long nap. So my month looks a little like this:

Days 1-6 glorious days of menstruation
Days 7-17 hump fest 2010
Days 18-24 wonderful "repair the vagina" rest days and try not to take pregnancy tests
Days 25-30 actually enjoy great sex life with hubs and probably take 12 pregnancy tests

The TTC'ers call this time period after ovulation the 2 week wait (2WW.) It's the most dreaded point in the cycle for most people and definitely for me. Either way the month will end in worry for me. I'll either be pregnant and scared shitless that I'm going to miscarry (again.) Or I'll start my joyous period and wonder what the fuck is wrong with me (again.)

I have always thought how fun it would be to get pregnant "accidentally." How would that be??? One day a woman thinks, "Hmm, my period should have started a week ago." Takes a pregnancy test and wow! it's positive. That is never going to be my life. It's sort of sad really.

My Running Shoes are Ready!

Yep, they've been patiently waiting for me in my closet for about 2 weeks now. I have been a runner all my life. I started running track in junior high school when I was 12 years old. I continued with track throughout high school but not because I was super passionate about it - it was more like I'd lose a little weight before school got out for the summer. Throughout college and my 20's, I continued to lace up my running shoes and venture out on the street or indoors on a treadmill to try and keep my heart healthy and my legs sexy. With all the practice and all the miles I have logged, running is still hard for me. It's not something I look forward to doing, but once I get started, I feel empowered and special and healthy. My legs take over and I pace my breaths. When I get tired, I stop and walk for a bit. I'm definitely not the fastest nor the strongest runner, but I do it because when I'm done, I feel powerful.

That being said, I have been a super lazy, chocolate chip cookie eating fat ass for the last few weeks! I can't decide where my motivation went or how to get it back. It's been unusually cold where I live, so it's been hard to make myself go out when it's 43 degrees in the middle of spring. Maybe my body is telling me I need to take a rest and just enjoy eating butter for now. I wish that were true. I'll try again tomorrow.

Afternoon Delight (and Other Nonsense)

After my ovary scan last Friday, the doctor seemed to think that my eggs were cooked up just about right so he gave me a shot of HCG which helps to release any mature eggs within about 36-40 hours. I had one good size acceptable follicle that was ready to go and also a 2nd follicle that was sort of medium-ish, which he said could also possibly be released. Yes, that means 2 eggs that could possibly be fertilized. So anyway, I had all the classic "you're just about to ovulate" symptoms at the end of last week and Saturday. Then, Sunday (36-40 hours later) the symptoms were gone. My temperature also went up Monday, making me think I did indeed ovulate on Sunday. (I apologize that this story is horribly boring but I swear I'm getting to the good part.)

Well, last night, while I was having Margarita Monday with my girlfriends (* Please click here for my disclaimer,) I noticed that I was having more pre-ovulatory symptoms (i.e. EWCM, look it up.) WTF? So I was wondering if maybe egg (and hopefully baby) #2 was making it's way out. I rushed home after finishing my margarita to inform hubs that it was go time again, just in case. He did not seem interested in my proposal, and to be honest, we've had quite the hump fest over the last few days and I wasn't even interested in my proposal. So we went to bed.

Today I was home cleaning the kitchen and I texted him the following: "When will you be home? I'd like some afternoon sex." Now this was not true at all. I was not interested in afternoon sex in the slightest. I was just trying to play to his man mind and make it seem like I was sitting home in lingerie waiting for him to come and satisfy my every need. And it totally worked. He came home for a lunch break and some afternoon "delight."

Oh the things we ladies must do in order to get ourselves knocked up.

My First Porn

Ok, so it's not really a porn, but it's the closest my genitals are going to get to a 32 inch plasma and a probe. I had an ultrasound of my ovaries.

Have you ever seen an ultrasound of your ovaries? Well, it is magical and amazing and super exciting. That's a lie. It looks like a picture of a night sky and you need someone to interpret it for you. In my case, it was Heather the Nurse. She was pointing out my follicles and telling me how they were developing. I pretty much just nodded my head and took her word for it.

The good news is that I had a follicle ready to release an egg. The bad news is there's no way of telling if it has any chance of becoming a pregnancy or if it is just another piece of shit egg that will result in nothing, or worse, something that won't make it.

The best part of the ultrasound was when I walked into the room and the MA told me I only needed to undress from the waist down. I was confused and thought "well why do I need to take my pants off??" Then I turned around and saw this:



Only mine had a giant condom with some ultrasound gel on it. It was a strange mix of uneasiness and leftover arousal from a toy I have that is similarly shaped. All right all right, I'm just kidding. I wasn't really turned on by the giant probe (or by Heather the Nurse for that matter.) It was over in a snap and it was really quite interesting.

Things I've Done on the Toilet

Okay, besides the obvious...

I have:

- Felt myself up to see where my cervix is. (Read: stuck my fingers in my vag.)
- Taken about a gazillion pregnancy tests.
- Taken even more ovulation predictor tests.
- Cried.
- Sat there and read my mail just so I could have a minute to myself.

But more recently, the most fantastical of all is that I went ahead and dropped my $25 digital OPK in the toilet after I peed on it. Yep that's right, I dropped it right in the toilet and then had to use my hand to retrieve it. Fun times. I hurried and cleaned it off and waited to see if it would still work. Guess what, it was negative so apparently my bad luck with the toilet had no effect on my infertility. Either that, or my toilet isn't ovulating right now.