Friday, November 28, 2014


Oy.  My Thanksgiving.

Right off the bat it was bad.  I showed up, and within five minutes found myself in conversation with my dad's girlfriend.  That's neeeeeever a good idea.  But it was especially not a great idea this particular day because the previous day my dad and I went on a walk and I finally told him about my PCOS and my struggle.  He responded very appropriately with lots of compassion and no advice, and then he asked if he was allowed to share this with his girlfriend.  And I said yes.  LIKE A FOOL.

This is how the conversation went.  The things in quotes are things that were actually said.  The things in parenthesis are things I thought in my brain parts while smiling innocently.

"SecondVoice!  Hi!  Hey, I wanted to talk to you.  Your dad told me about your.... you know, the thing."

"Oh.  Ok."  (Yeah, it has a name.  Don't be weird.)

"I just wanted to tell you not to worry.  You're still so young.  So you'll definitely get pregnant eventually."

"Yeah... it's just that I have a medical condition..."  (Also, did you think that maybe I didn't know that I was young?  That you would tell me and I would be like, "ARE YOU SERIOUS!?  WELL, THANK GOODNESS; I'LL JUST RELAX!")

"Oh, no, I know.  But I know a lot of people who had trouble trying and they eventually got pregnant.  So."

"Uh...huh..." (That has literally no effect on my own chances of achieving pregnancy.  Like, none at all.)

"Yeah, so you shouldn't be taking medication.  Don't do that."

"...yeah.  I just don't want to regret not doing everything I could when I had the best chances."  (NOT THAT IT IS ANY OF YOUR BUSINESS.  AT ALL.)

"But while you're in school, though?"

"...Yyyyyup."  (This may surprise you, but we were actually already aware of the fact that I am still in school when we made the decision, and we made it anyway.  So obviously reminding me that I'm in school is not going to make me toss out my last dose of Clomid and stay away from sex.  You are not telling me ANYTHING new.)

"Ok, but think about this.  If Brother and CSIL... if they, you know... if something happens.  You would get the twins, right?"

"Um... I don't know.  That's their decision."  (WHAT!?  What are you saying!?  What is happening!?  Are you telling me not to worry about kids because my sibling and his wife might just DIE and then I would get free kids, anyway?  REALLY?  IS THIS REALLY WHAT YOU ARE SAYING TO ME!?)

"Yeah, so don't worry.  You always have that."

(THAT REALLY IS WHAT SHE IS SAYING TO ME.  I CANNOT.)  "I have to go to the bathroom."

I left and immediately texted KC the entire conversation while trying to lock in a calm expression so that I would neither laugh nor cry in her face when next I saw her.  Several minutes later, as in definitely way longer than anyone should ever be in the bathroom, I re-emerged and tried to integrate myself into a new conversation.

But I still was not safe!  She literally chased me down!  And when I tried to pretend I didn't realize she was talking to me, she snapped her fingers in my face to get my attention.

"One more thing, I just remembered the Chinese medicine cure.  You just need to not drink cold liquids and eat more ginger."

My calm face did not work.  I literally did laugh in her face.  Just right in her face.  Hysterical, incredulous laughter.

I was holding a cold drink when she told me this!  And she eyed it, like she expected me to just fling it away immediately.

Fortunately, the family's attention was at that point called to something else.  Unfortunately, the something else was a baby announcement.  CSIL and Brother are having twins!  Surprise!  Everyone was very excited.  Lots of oohing and aahing.

And then we got dinner, and I tried very hard to end up in a group of people that would not discuss babies.  Men on all sides.  So dinner was fine.  I was mostly silent.

But after dinner the women pounced on me.  And they wanted to talk about babies.  Babies babies babies babies babies.  My smile got reeeeally strained.

One such conversation was particularly hard.  CSIL was just going on and on about how proud Brother was and how excited he was to be a father and how cool it was that she could give that to him.  She talked about keeping track of the size of the babies, how one week they were the size of a poppy seed and the next they were the size of a sesame seed and right now they're the size of grapes.  I kept track of that, too, when I thought I was pregnant.  I got the diagnosis around sesame seed.

It was just painful.  Painful to hear how happy she was and how easy it was and all the things they get to plan and do now.  I felt horribly insufficient and sad, and the more she talked the quieter and smaller I got.

Then Grandmother turned to me and asked how my life was.  And I told her about law school and working at the church and stuff... but I almost started crying as I was talking, because I didn't care about anything I was saying.  Law school's fine.  Church is fine.  I'm broken inside.  At one point, I literally couldn't think of anything else to say and I was starting to tear up and I thought, "This is it.  My blog prediction is going to come true.  I really am going to start crying out of the blue in front of everyone."

But then CSIL chimed in and said she was feeling exhausted and might head home because growing two humans is tough work and I immediately offered to drive her.  She said goodbye to everyone and I told people that I would come back.

But I did not.  I did not go back.  Instead I cried on CSIL's couch and we talked about life and then we watched a movie.

I've never in my life left Thanksgiving so early.  I'm usually one of the last ones to leave.  But I just couldn't stay.  Not one second longer.  All I could do was think about what a marker holidays are.  If by Thanksgiving next year I have a baby, then I will look back on this year and wish that I could have told me that it would be OK.  But if another year goes by and I am still trying by the time this holiday rolls around again, it's going to be so freaking hard.  Because the twins will be there.  And I will remember this year and realize that it's been hundreds of days since then and nothing has worked and I will want to be alone and cry all day.  And at this point in time I don't know which of the two outcomes it will be.

Holidays are just... hard.

Wednesday, November 26, 2014


Goodness gracious.  For the first few days of Clomid I had basically no symptoms at all.  Kind of a headache but that's really it.  And then, all of a sudden, last night I had ALL THE SYMPTOMS.

Let me narrate for you what went down.

I came back from dinner, wrote out my blog post, and then settled in to relax for a bit before I went to bed.  Only instead of doing that I just started crying.  All of a sudden I was totally overwhelmed with the things I'd been through that evening and my own infertility and the amount of work I have to do this week and all the people I have to see and how little time there is to do everything.  It all just hit me at once and I started crying.  Not interested in crying alone, I called my husband and asked him to come up and snuggle.  He asked me what was wrong and as I was telling him, instead of sad I started to feel mad.  Why did I have to deal with all these things!?  It wasn't fair!  I just suddenly got randomly furious at nothing.

And then I got my first ever hot flash.  It was soooo weird.  Kentucky Cousin ("KC") told me that the first time she had a hot flash she initially thought it was a panic attack.  I can now totally see why.  Because at first is just felt like overwhelming pressure in my chest.  It was heavy the way that guilt is heavy.  Or panic.  But I didn't have anything to feel guilty or panicked about.  And then all of a sudden my entire body was just really freaking hot.

And, you guys, listen.  It is FREEZING in my mom's house (where I am currently staying).  All year.  No matter what.  She refuses to ever use heat and her house just traps cold air inside of it like an arctic tomb.  She walks around in multiple coats and considers such an action to be totally normal, even though she lives in California.  So I KNOW that I was not hot because it was actually hot.

So at that point I realized that all the things happening were hormonal and I calmed down.

But then I got hit with another fun Clomid side effect - insomnia.  I usually fall asleep almost immediately, and I was really, really tired.  And yet I couldn't fall asleep for hours.  I was just tossing and turning, never comfortable.  My cat (who likes to sleep on me) got pissed that I wouldn't stay still and gave up on me.  I think she slept on my husband, who was totally out for most of this.

When I finally did fall asleep, I had weird and scary dreams/hallucinations that creatures that looked like the Minotaur were in my bedroom and on my balcony.  Just screeching at me.  I say hallucinations because I actually sat up in bed and looked over my husband's sleeping body to try to speak to one of them.  He was right there.  But as I stared at him he gradually disappeared.


I did a quick Google search this morning and apparently out of a study of 656 people on Clomid, 4 had the side effect of hallucinations.  So it's really rare.  Lucky me!

I felt fine this morning, but man.  Last night was a trial.  And now I feel like any of those things could just hit me at any time.  Hopefully tomorrow I see a Minotaur passing me the gravy and I freak out.  That would be the perfect way to give people something other than babies to discuss.

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

No More, Please.

My dad's not great at taking hints sometimes.  So when Brother and CSIL tried to schedule a dinner with him prior to Thanksgiving so that they could tell him their pregnancy news before they tell the whole family, he absolutely refused to even entertain the idea if Husband and I weren't coming, too.  Because we are in town!  And he likes us very much!  So he wants to spend all the time with us!  And Brother and CSIL could not very well tell him that they did not want us to come because that would be weird!

That is how I ended up eating a calamari platter at The Cheesecake Factory and trying very hard not to show how impatient I was for Brother and CSIL to just say the thing already because I knew the thing was coming and I wanted to get past the thing and onto other things.  I'm unsure how effective my attempts to hide my impatience ended up being, but I deserve an A for effort.

When they finally said it, it was a relief.  Dad expressed happiness.  Dad's Girlfriend asked repeatedly, "Is this a joke!?  Seriously!?  No, really; twins!?  I'm just still not sure whether you're joking or not.  Are you pranking me!?"  (I know how you feel, Dad's Girlfriend.)

And then it was all over and the conversation moved on and the rest of my evening was lovely.  I gave myself a pat on the back for getting through it, and I felt stronger and more peaceful for hours, just basking in the glow of my accomplishment.


I maintained a smile for the actual announcement, but then came The Questions.  How far along?  What genders?  What names?  Who knows so far?  Could she tell already which twin was her favorite and which would be the disappointment?  As it became clearer and clearer that I was trapped in this conversation, I had to start asking myself questions of my own.  Is this how my face is supposed to go?  How do normal people put their faces when they are present for a double baby announcement?  Am I talking too loudly?  Saying too many jokes?  Is the twinge of desperation apparent in my voice/expression/eyes/aura?  How many times is too many times to escape to the bathroom in one dinner?  How hard would it be to strangle myself with calamari?  Is there a way to get Dad's steak knife out of his hand and through my heart before he notices?

The dinner took almost three hours.  So that was fun.

But don't worry.  As soon as it was over I got to go home and relax.  In fact, I treated myself and spent the rest of the evening recuperating.


CSIL's sister was in town, so when the dinner was over CSIL insisted that we come up to their apartment and say hi to her.  I backed away in panic.  Because CSIL cannot trick me!  Nobody is saying hi in that apartment.  CSIL is pregnant, and her sister just had a baby, so I know exactly what will be discussed if I go up to that apartment and I know exactly how long it will take.  The answer is forever.  It will take forever because people can talk about babies FOREVER.

But I was at a disadvantage in the discussion of whether to go up because I had to go to the bathroom (because I drank so much water at the restaurant so that I could go to the bathroom there, but my stupid bladder did not understand its job at all) so eventually I had to go up, if only to relieve myself.

And that is how I now know that CSIL's nephew is standing up sometimes, and that he cries a lot, and that he can pick up really heavy things, and that he's very cute but not a great listener, and that he torments the cat, and that he wakes up at seven, and all kinds of other things that I was not in the mood to learn.

Now I really am home and it's late and I'm emotionally exhausted.  I feel like I need a week to recover my good humor.  And yet I know that Thanksgiving will be even worse than what I've just gone through and I also know that it is in two short days.  So... yaaaay.  I can't wait.

Sunday, November 23, 2014

It Has Begun

Today is CD 5, which means it's Clomid time.

I decided that I didn't want to pop a new drug with unknown side effects right before teaching Sunday School, so I didn't take it this morning.  Also I forgot to bring it with me when I left for church.  So there was that.

Actually, I was a little disappointed that I didn't bring it.  I wanted to carry it on me all day, nice and close, like a pirate always keeps poison on their person in case they are captured.  I thought that I would carry it around and then somehow spontaneously know the exact right moment to take it.  Instead I just took when I got home from church / hanging out with California Cousin ("CC").

It was weird taking it.  Because I anticipated the whole thing being a lot more dramatic than it actually turned out to be.  In my mind, I guess I thought there would be an instantaneous Jekyll/Hyde transformation.  I'd put the pill in my mouth and the second it touched my tongue I would double over in pain as it coursed through my veins, rapidly turning me into a monster.  Suddenly, I'd be a crazed banshee, shrieking and clawing the faces off of any pregnant women I saw.  Instead, when I put it on my tongue, all that happened was that the pill was really bitter and I had to choke it down and then eat a bunch of grapes to get the taste out of my mouth.  And since then I've just been chilling on my bed.  I haven't clawed anyone's face off at all.

Although, to be fair, I haven't seen any pregnant women yet.  So we'll see how I handle it in the next week's worth of baby announcements and family gatherings.  Potentially not as well as I am handling it while laying on my bed doing nothing.

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Drag it out, will you?

The last couple of days have been really frustrating.  I know I said I got AF two days ago, but what I really got two days ago was gross-o brown gunky stuff that led me to believe that my period was coming imminently because sometimes I get that before my actual period starts.  As in, like, an hour before.  But then I got it for like a day and a half before it just stopped completely, which has never happened.  So I was like "Whaaaat is going on?"  I even tested again (negative, because obviously).  And then I asked Dr. Angry Eyebrows, who was just as unhelpful as ever.  And then I screamed at the skies, "WHY CAN'T MY BODY BE NORMAL!?"

Well today my body said, "YOU WANT A PERIOD!?  FINE.  HERE.  BLOOD FOR DAYS AND CRAMPS SO BAD YOU WILL FEEL LIKE YOU ARE DYING."  Freaking ow, body.  Why are you doing this?  I have an oral argument today!  You can't ever just give me the blood without the pain?  It always has to come with a giant "screw you; I want you to feel how not pregnant you are"?  Uuuugggghhhhh, I hate you so much.

The good news is now that actual AF took her sweet freaking time showing up after her gross and unwelcome entourage, I will be taking my last day of Clomid on freaking Thanksgiving.  Hooraaay!  I'll be sneaking pills in the bathroom like a REAL druggie!  Who here would like to take bets that Crying Clomid causes me to have a meltdown right in the middle of the holiday?  I can see it now.  Someone will ask me to pass the gravy and I will just start sobbing.  And it will be hilarious.  Because, you guys, my family is SUPER NICE.  We've got our problems and whatever, but they are all hidden and unnoticeable.  Like my struggle with infertility.  A good chunk of my family probably still doesn't know about it, or if they do it has been discussed in soft whispers with a lot of compassionate head nodding in the dark of night.  At holidays such things are never discussed.  No one fights.  Everyone is agreeable.  If there is a disagreement at all, it is probably regarding whose pie is better, and both pie-makers will insist that the pie they did not make was far superior than their own.  That's the kind of environment I'm talking about here.  So if in the midst of the smiles and the compliments and the small talk and the copious hugging I start sobbing, one of two things will happen.  Either everyone will be so shocked that they don't know how to cope and will shut down so that the only sound in the room is my wailing, OR every single person in the room and, before long, the adjoining rooms will immediately flock to the trouble and I will be smothered by affection and compassion.  And those closest to the sobbing will give a play-by-play to those on the outskirts so that they do not feel left out.  "Yes, she's still crying.  Apparently there is no baby in her.  Even now.  Oh, when I said the word baby it got much worse.  Now she is sinking to the floor and making squeaking noises.  Do you think she needs water?  Could you get her some?  I'll catch you up on what you miss; don't worry.  Please hurry!  For some reason now she is getting enraged!"

There's just going to be SO MUCH to be thankful for.

Monday, November 17, 2014

Aunt Flo

Aunt Flo came to visit today.  She's the worst.  She is EASILY my least favorite aunt.  And I have an aunt that threw a hissy fit at her son's wedding when he didn't make the day all about her.  So.

Something about actually seeing the blood made me mad.  Just really angry.  It's so not fair.  Everyone in the world is pregnant, CSIL's having twins, and I've been trying for nine months, and I still get nothing.  I've dieted.  Exercised.  Lost 20 pounds.  Researched.  Put up with Dr. Angry Eyebrows.  Had sexytimes even when I didn't feel like having sexytimes and even when I was so busy that I had to work right through the sexytimes.  I've prayed.  I've cried.  Arizona Sister-in-Law ("ASIL") is almost in her third trimester already and we were SUPPOSED to be pregnant together.  What if she freaking gives birth, makes an ENTIRE baby, and I'm still not pregnant?  All of it just hit me and I was furious.

I was also mad because I was out of pads.  I bought some while I was visiting family last weekend but then left them there, as if my pregnant sister-in-law or menopausal mother had any use for them at all.  And I hate driving to the store!  Errands are annoying!

But I went.  And I got my pads.  And while I was there, I figured I should get my Clomid, too.  I waited in line all grumpy and mad that I had to be there at all and I tried not to cry as she handed me my first batch of drugs, making my own body's failure official.  I tried not to bite the head off of the pretty blonde pharmacist who walked me through how to take pills and then asked if I had any questions (You said put them in my mouth and then swallow?  Can I swallow and then put them in my nose, or does that not work?  I'm so confused.)

And on my way out I grabbed a six pack and put it on the conveyor belt because that is my new favorite way to deal with my problems apparently.  The check-out lady asked me how my day was going and I said, "I'm buying alcohol and it isn't even noon yet, so... what do you think?"  She laughed.


Because forget my diet.  It's making me miserable.  And it's not even working.  I lost weight but who even cares if I don't get a baby.  Drugs are my solution now.  I mean, I'll still try to eat healthy and whatever, but I'm not going to get all guilty every time I have something with milk or sugar in it.  That's exhausting.  So... Chapter Two: Can Drugs Save Us All starts now.  Fingers crossed, you guys.

Sunday, November 16, 2014


I got ready for the event like I was getting ready for war.  My make-up was war paint.  My clothes were armor.  I took a lot of deep breaths and stalled strategically until I knew that other people would be there already so that I could blend into a crowd, but not so long that she would notice my absence and wonder.

By the way, to those friends who remembered that yesterday would be hard for me and reached out in the morning to let me know they were thinking about me and lending mental support: thank you so much.  It really helped.  I appreciate you guys more than I can say.

When I got there, there were only about five people, several of whom were friends I hadn't seen in a while.  I immediately got into a conversation with one of them which was lovely except that she had recently had a baby and started telling me how tough they are and how I should wait a very long time before I have one.  I put on a tight smile.

Then another friend who had recently had a baby walked in holding her baby.  So the two of them starting talking about labor and epidurals and I subtly backed away in panic.  Someone opened champagne around that point and I pounced on it.  Comments were made about my eagerness.  I ignored them and downed that golden elixir of relaxation like I was running a marathon and it was life-giving water.  And then I transitioned to a conversation with a single friend that I had just recently gotten to meet up with in England.  Hooray!  England!  What a safe topic!

The food was served and I surrounded myself with people of the male variety, which soon made me sincerely contemplate whether conversations about sports were TRULY better than baby talks.  But it was a good move because it got me invited to play a board game that takes about an hour to explain and several more hours to play.  I eyed the females congregating and giggling around the new baby and accepted immediately, even though I have failed miserably at this game before and had a terrible time (it was the Game of Thrones board game, if you're wondering.  Picture Risk, but in Westeros).

Thankfully, we played for the rest of the event.  I got to focus on deploying armies and bidding for the Iron Throne while catching only snatches of the baby talk around me.  I heard the word uterus several times, though.  Each time, it reaffirmed my excellent decision.

All was well as Brother claimed his seventh castle and won the game.  Husband and I announced that we had to go, since a two hour drive was waiting for us, and we said our goodbyes.  I could taste freedom.

But then, of course, CSIL decided to walk us to the car.

I'm very torn about what followed.  We chatted for a bit and she shared some of her struggles.  One of them was weight gain and she called me a skinny bitch, which made me a lot happier than I ever thought that phrase possibly could.  And it was nice to hear a bit about what she's going through and realize that this isn't all sunshine and roses for her either.

But at the same time, a part of me could only hear her saying, "Ugh, you know what sucks?  Being pregnant.  And you know what double sucks?  Being DOUBLE pregnant.  You have noooo idea."  That part of me wanted to scream or slap her and say, "OBVIOUSLY I WOULD TRADE MY SKINNY BODY AND MY LACK OF NAUSEA AND ALL MY MONEY AND BASICALLY ANYTHING ELSE TO HAVE EVEN HALF OF WHAT YOU HAVE.  STOP COMPLAINING."

But it was ok.  Because then I got to leave.  And leaving brought me such intense relief.  I really like feeling of not dreading anything.  It's a rush like no other.  And now I'm free!  Freeeeeee!

...until freaking Thanksgiving. :/

Friday, November 14, 2014

Another Negative

Tested this morning.  Negative.  Because of course it's negative.  Why would I get to visit Brother and CSIL with good news?  Much better to drive down there and hear them talk some more about how excited they are to have twins KNOWING that I am not pregnant.

I feel like my body is broken.  It doesn't work like other women's bodies do.  Some piece of me inside is missing, and it's the piece that produces the baby dust.  And it's hard not to feel like I'm somehow just not good enough to be a mother.  Like maybe if I were just a better person then I'd get knocked up right away.  Which is unfoortunate because I often feel that this struggle is making me a worse person, so if it really is based on how worthy I am then I'll probably get less and less qualified as the months march on.

And I'm so tired.  Because I stayed up way too late last night all anxious about the results, and then I woke up way too early this morning and had to pee so I took the test and then couldn't get back to sleep.  Even though that's all I want to do.  I just want to sleep.  I just want to sleep forever and not feel.

I didn't cry this time.  I just felt empty.  Now I hope that AF comes ASAP so that I can just move on to next month.

Because this month sucked.

(UPDATE: Cross out the part about me not crying.  I did cry.  A lot.)

Thursday, November 13, 2014

Haha. I Need To Calm Down.

Ok, you guys.  Before you call suicide watch or anything, I would like to assure you that the Dark Times of yesterday were not evidence of my descent into madness and depression as I first assumed.  In fact, this morning I feel pretty OK.  I didn't walk into any doors.  I'm not on the verge of crying.  I even actually put effort into my appearance today for probably the first time this entire semester.  I'm wearing a black, lacy skirt and a little yellow sweater!  I look adorable!

I think most of my initial strong reaction was the shock of it.  I mean... twins.  Even now it's hard to wrap my head around, but I'm warming up to the idea.  I love twins.  Granted I wanted them for myself and even though it doesn't make any logical sense I feel like she stole this generation's twins and now I can't have them because she called dibs first, but at least I'll get to hang out with these ones all the time.  We will be friends.  I will be their aunt.  Forever.

It's weird to picture what they'll be like.  Weird and creative like my brother?  Red-headed and responsible like CSIL?  Identical?  Girls?  Boys?  Fraternal twins of opposite genders?  Thinking about it makes me happy and sad at the same time.  Happy because I am excited to meet them.  Sad because I feel like I can't fantasize about my own kids because the less I think about them the less it hurts.

I'm sure that if the ol' pregnancy test is negative tomorrow, I will still cry.  A lot.  But I'm at least not feeling as hopeless as I did yesterday.

Anyway, I just wanted to give y'all an update in case anyone was worried about me.  The main conclusion of this post is that I am pretty OK.

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

And I'm Back In The Pit.

I tried so hard to stay out of it, you guys.  I was able to be positive for like a month.  And it felt so nice.  So freaking good.  But even as I enjoyed it, I knew it couldn't last.  After receiving The News, I've been sucked right back into the negative, depressed vortex that I tried so hard to fight.

The feeling of constantly being on the edge of tears is familiar, but this time I also feel... bruised.  There's no other way to describe it.  I just feel like I've been sucker punched.

Part of that might be the fact that I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of my cat scratching at a door, and in my sleepy stupor I assumed it was the bathroom door and stumbled over to grant her access to her litter box, only it turned out that it was my bedroom door that was closed and I walked straight into it.  My nose hurts very badly.

And what a freaking metaphor for my life right now.  For this whole process.  I just keep slamming into closed doors and getting hurt.

My progesterone level looked pretty good.  It was a 12.1.  That's high enough that I ovulated but it's still low for a pregnancy.  Not impossibly low, but low.  Dr. Angry Eyebrows thinks I should test on Friday if I haven't gotten my period yet, because that will be CD30 and 10dpo.  But I'm so freaking pessimistic right now that I'm just sure that the test will be as negative as I am.  So I'm going to take it, and then I'm going to wait impatiently, and then my fears will be confirmed and I'm going to cry, and then I'm going to hop into the car and drive down to spend the weekend with CSIL and her tiny baby twin fetuses and every minute of it will suck me deeper and deeper into The Pit until I can never get out again.

That's how I'm feeling right now.

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Is This Real Life?

So, recently, my cousin (Kentucky Cousin, or "KC" for short) told me that she was pregnant.  And I was really, reeeeeally, really happy for her.  She has PCOS, too, you see.  And she's been trying for two and a half years.  And she's come really close to giving up recently.  So this was a miracle out of the blue and it was uplifting because it gave me hope that people like us can succeed even after so much difficulty and heartache.  Yes, it was maybe a little sad that now I'm the only one struggling with PCOS and failing to conceive in our family, but the vast majority of my feelings were happiness.

Well, that and sympathetic terror because miscarriage is the horrible looming ghost over all PCOS pregnancies and it would be The Worst Thing Ever if that happened to her after all of this.  But aside from that, sparkles and happiness and joy.  Because, for real, she deserves this.

And... ok, I'll admit it.  I was just a little bit smug and vicariously victorious that she managed to beat out the healthier competition for next Family Baby.  Particularly my California sister-in-law.  You remember CSIL.  I have written angsty extended metaphors about what it feels like to race her for parenthood before.  And since she just skipped onto the TTC scene a month or so ago, I thought it only fair that KC, with her five year lead, managed to bring it home first.


Because CSIL is pregnant.  She got pregnant in her second month of trying.  And she is due THE DAY BEFORE KC.



I could not make this up.  How is this real life?  How is this fair, like, AT ALL?  I had to wait to post this until CSIL told KC about the pregnancy because KC reads my blog (she's the only one I know irl that I allow to because we cysters gotta stick together).  But great news, guys, CSIL told her today.


I just... I'm feeling a lot of angst and incredulity right now.  It's like a big cosmic joke.  It's so freaking unfair.

And look.  I love my brother.  And I really do love CSIL as well.  And I will love their children.  I will.  So much.  But would it have killed them to conceive in like another couple months or so to at least give the illusion that they worked for it even a little bit?  It would just be so nice to believe that perfect cherubs DON'T just sprout in her womb every time she so much as giggles.  And even if they couldn't have struggled for a couple of months, is it so much to ask that they could have somehow just waited an extra TWO DAYS so that at least KC's due date was first?  I mean, come on!

I'm so relieved that I told her to let me know about her pregnancy in text form and not in person, because that was a great call.  When I got the text I just started laughing.  Like, hysterical crazy person laughing.  It would have been really awkward if she were standing in front of me while I did that.

And I was laughing because it's so ridiculous.  Not just all of the things I've already said, but also the fact that now I have no one to talk to about trying because she is LITERALLY the last person that I know outside of the internet who decided she wanted kids and didn't have them yet.  Every single freaking friend and family member who has ever said to me, "Hey, I'm thinking about the possibility of kids soon" is now knocked up or in possession of an infant or toddler that looks a lot like them.

I'm glad I have all of you faceless voices on the internet, because here in the real world... I am now completely freaking alone.  ...Awesome.

Monday, November 10, 2014


Uuuuggghhh.  Needles.

Nothing makes me feel more like a child then getting a shot or having my blood drawn.  Because no matter how stoic I seem, or how little I flinch, or how casually I allow a medical professional to stab me in the arm, I hate hate hate it on the inside.  On the inside, I just want to whine that I don't wanna.  No thank you.  Hard pass.

If you can't tell, I got my progesterone checked today.  I've had it checked before, but this time was a little different, because this time I know that monthly progesterone checks are just my life now.  Another fun perk of my monthly drug trips.  And knowing that just made every single part of it seem way more significant, because I knew that I'd be doing them over and over and freaking over.

As I filled out the forms they gave me, I thought, "I bet I'll memorize this sucker before long."

As I waited in an uncomfortable chair for them to call my name, I thought "Why do I have to sit among all these pregnant women?  I am in a flock of pregnant women.  Will the same pregnant women be here every time?  Will I get to watch them get bigger while I remain stubbornly flat?  That will be fun."

As I sat down and offered my veins up for needle-shanking, I thought, "Maybe I will get used to this since I will have to do it so often."

As the needle bit into my vein, I thought, "Probably not if I can't even look or breathe properly.  Can't wait to do this again."

And when the nurse called me out on the not-breathing situation and laughed at me, I thought, "YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH; YOU DON'T KNOW MY LIFE.", but also, "Be nice.  You might see her every time and you don't want her to not like you considering that she wields the stabby needles.  It's probably best to laugh with her.  Do it.  LAUGH."  I faintly chuckled.

And then I got a fun cotton ball and tape badge of honor in the crook of my elbow that I never quite know how long I am supposed to leave on.

In a day or so, they will tell me if I ovulated this month.  They're either going to call any say, "Nope, you're still screwed up!  Chug those drugs, sucker, because they are your only hope!", or they will say, "Yeah, you ovulated.  But it just wasn't good enough, was it?  You can't even get knocked up when your body IS working.  Maybe you just shouldn't be a mother?", OR they will say, "A miracle may have happened.  Stand by."

I'm not putting a lot of hope in that last one.

Friday, November 7, 2014

I'm Basically Schizophrenic

So I was waiting in line at the grocery store.  It came to be my turn.  I smiled at the girl behind the counter and said, "Hey, how are you?"  Because I like to be nice to people in customer service jobs!  They deal with a lot.

And I swear, you guys.  I swear that she answered, "I'm pregnant."

My head snapped up and I was like, "What!?" in what must have been a shocked and startled tone because she gave me a weird look and answered, "I asked how you were?"

Of course she did.  Because that is a normal thing to say.  Why did my mind change her normal thing into a crazy baby thing?  Why does my mind not want to give me a break?

Babies have come up a lot today.  Husband, who rarely dreams, woke up this morning from a dream that I've been pregnant for the last nine months and we just had no idea because I'm not showing at all.  So in the dream we had a son and we named him Collin (for some reason).  When Husband woke up he was mad for a couple minutes that he didn't really get to have a baby.  Which I found very sweet, actually. Because, as I've mentioned before, sometimes I feel like I'm the only one with emotions about all this.  So it's nice to see him get a little mad about not having the son that for a few unconscious minutes he thought he did have.

Aside from that, my Facebook has been blowing up with baby pictures all day because Canada Cousin is still camera-happy with her newborn and Church Friend finally went into labor and Law School Acquaintance's baby just hit seven months and College Friend is pregnant now, too, and Person I Don't Remember Befriending has decided to do a sweater vest fashion show with their baby and basically there are just so many babies.

But I'm doing fine!  Still fine!  Not depressed or freaking out!  Everything is great through sheer force of will.  Because now that I've come out of my hole of depression, I am terrified of getting thrown back in.  I don't like who I am when I'm in there.  At all.  I don't like living that way.  But I know that this process is hard and I know that I'll have more low points in the future and that scares me.  It's like there's a whole other me lurking inside and sometimes she takes possession of my body and just spews venom at everything and cries, like, all the freaking time.  Right now she's in a cage... but I feel her there.  She could come and possess me again whenever she feels like it.  She's just biding her time right now.  Pacing inside of me and waiting for the right moment to snatch my free will and sunny attitude away again.  It's her that whispered in my ear that some random cashier was confessing her pregnancy to me.  And it's her that scoffs in my mind that other people's babies aren't even that cute.  I want her to go away, but she's just there.  All the time.  And I don't know if she'll ever leave.

Thursday, November 6, 2014

The Day the Drug Deal Went Down

I made a drug deal today, you guys.  That is the only thing that I will ever call fertility treatments, because the three or four times today that I said the word "drugs" my ob-gyn corrected me and said, "Call them medications, please" with increasing annoyance.  And that amuses me.  Because he was really upset by the end.  And he has really big eyebrows, and I think that they were upset, too.  They were quivering.  So henceforth I will call my prescriptions "drug deals" and I will call my ob-gyn "Dr. Angry Eyebrows".

Because screw him.  He's a nice guy and whatever, but he does not have time for me and he made that very clear every time I asked a question and he literally threw his hands up in the air instead of answering.  Or made really vague comments about how "well, some diets say one thing and other diets say another and they all think they're right".  Yes, but you are a medical professional.  And I am asking YOU.

He gave me basically no information about drugs.  (THAT'S RIGHT, I CALLED THEM DRUGS AGAIN, YOU DRUG DEALER.)  I was like, "Listen, everyone I know who has used Metformin has been successful and everyone who uses Clomid is still trying, but I understand that my sample size is small, so, in your experience, which is more likely to yield results?  And do you have any hard data on the average amount of months it takes to achieve pregnancy for your patients on each drug, or anything like that?  Or just a general idea?"

And he was like, "I read an article a couple months ago that said they're pretty much the same."  And he thought that answered my question.  No, it did not.  You read a freaking article?  I can read articles.  You have actual patients.  I was asking about them.  Did you not understand the question, or can you really just not remember whether or not these drugs (YES, DRUGS) have worked for any of the people who come into your office and pay a couple hundred dollars so that you can not answer any of their questions?

Then he printed out a three page article about what PCOS is for me as if I don't know how to use Google and haven't spent months reading ALL the articles in the universe on the myriad of problems with the disappointment machine I keep where my baby-grower should be.

And then he was like, "So are we done here?  I'm done."  Thanks, Dr. Angry Eyebrows.  You have a nice day, too.

And, look.  I get it.  This is the thirty-millionth time he has had this conversation and written this prescription.  But it's the first time that I have had this conversation, and it is his freaking job to answer my freaking questions about it!

Whatever.  It's fine.  I got a prescription for Clomid because the one and only thing that he actually told me was that Clomid is better if you don't need to lose weight and Metformin is better if you do.  Thanks to my 20 pound weight loss extravaganza, my weight is not at all an issue.  Soooo Clomid.

And on the 10th I'm going to get my progesterone checked to see if I ovulated this month.

And sometime in the next couple weeks, Husband is going to get his sperm checked.  Which he has feelings about.  But maybe I'll talk about that in another post.  Just know for now that his feelings amuse me, because I have been having feelings for, like, ever.  Your turn, sucker!  Mwahaha.

Sunday, November 2, 2014

The Chaos Weeks Have Ended

Oh my gosh, you guys.  I made it.  These last two weeks have been busy.  As in BUSY.  So busy that I could not even take a break from all the things that I was doing to have ovulation sex.

I don't want you to misinterpret what I have just said.  I am NOT telling you that we didn't have sex.  I'm telling you I did not take a break for it.  That's right, friends.  I was re-arranging the exhibits on my memorandum and doing the baby dance simultaneously.  And I regret nothing.

Because it's over now!  And I did it!  I miraculously did not let anything important fall through the cracks.  As I mentioned in a previous post, my first oral argument went so well that only two people in the 77 person class did better than I did (the results for my second oral argument have not yet been posted).  And I won my hearing, which is great.  Although I did accidentally ask a leading question.  But it was ok.  Everyone was nice about it.  And the Halloween event I planned for the kids at my church (and also a bunch of kids from neighboring churches that NO ONE TOLD ME ABOUT) was a success and everyone had fun!  And despite the fact that stress has probably made my vagina a pressure cooker this month, I did manage to fulfill my ovulation obligations as well.

So basically, I am a winner.  And I'm feeling great about life because of all the success I'm having and the fact that the most stressful part of my semester is OVER.

But... in a weird way... I almost wish it weren't?  Because when I'm stressed and I don't have time to think about anything then I do not cry for an hour or so about not having a baby.  No time for crying.  No time for baby thoughts.  Just normal life like other people have all the time.  In a way, honestly, it was nice.  Like a break.  While simultaneously not being anything close to a break.  Why can't I take a break from babies and from life at the same time?  Why must my failure to grow a person inside of me lurk on the edge of my thoughts, just waiting for some downtime to ruin?

At least now I don't have much longer to wait before we take The Next Step.  T-minus four days until my gyno appointment.  You can expect to hear from me again then.  In the meantime, I'm going to try my hardest to keep the dont-think-about-babies train going.  Choo choo!
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