New Blog Announcement

Dear Friends,

I hope you are all doing amazing.  I think about you all the time.  My sincere hope is that all of your dreams, baby-related and otherwise, have come true and you're living blissful, awesome lives.

I wanted to leave a note here to let anyone who still follows or reads this blog that I've started a new one.  It's a mommy blog.  So... fewer stories about pain and loss and infertility, but just as much snark and humor.  Plus you can see how the product of all the struggles I experienced in this blog ultimately turned out.

If you want to!  But if any of you guys are still in the trenches and a mommy blog is the exact last thing you want to read, I totally get that, too.

I love you all regardless.  You were so there for me when I so needed it, and part of the reason I'm starting a new blog is that I miss that community.  (Who knew there would be anything about that dark time I would miss?)

You guys were my candles in the darkness, and I'm forever grateful for that.

So if you would enjoy reading about how ridiculous and independent and hilarious my daughter is, or about my soon-to-be-born son's mystery personality, then I would love to have you.  I'll be here: https://amamasamusingmusings.wordpress.com/

Snarkily Yours,

SecondVoice

The Aftermath

I don't know how many people will read this since it's been months since I've posted, but I wanted to share a picture of the end result of all this mess for any still wondering how it all turned out.  This is my gorgeous daughter.  She makes me happy every day.  I hope and pray that one day all of you who are still in the trenches and still hurting and trying and struggling and wanting will get to experience the joy that this little one brings me.  I love you guys.  Thank you for all the support and encouragement that you've given me.  I wouldn't have made it here without you.

Normalcy

I'm not sure when it happened exactly.  But at some point in the last six months I feel like things that formerly seemed fantastic and impossible have now become ordinary.  My pregnancy problems have shifted from infertility fears (What if this isn't real?  What if I lose it?  Why don't other mothers experience the same level of anxiety that I do?) to normal-people annoyances (It's totally a bummer to not get to eat rare steak anymore, am I right?)  The squirming in my lower abdomen is so frequent now that I often don't even acknowledge it most of the time.  And when I think back to the days when I couldn't quite make it back to the apartment before I started crying, it seems like another lifetime entirely.

In one way, this makes me sad.  I kinda wish that the shadow of infertility would always hang over me so that I would be forced to appreciate every second of growing life as precious.  And on top of that, I sometimes feel survivor's guilt and I can't stop thinking about the people who would do anything to be in my position.  I still feel like I've somehow betrayed them.

But in another way, it's good.  It's nice.  Comments that people make in casual conversation don't hurt me anymore.  My mind is freed up to think about all kinds of things.  I get to remember what I first loved about school and friends and family and my life in general.  The whole world is no longer out to get me.  And I haven't seen that wench Aunt Flo in months, but I know that when I do her visit won't be accompanied by the feeling of my heart getting ripped out of my chest.

I don't know if me saying this will make any of you angry or bitter or jealous.  I know how awful it is sometimes to hear about someone else's joy (ESPECIALLY pregnancy joy).  But I decided to write it anyway in case it gives you hope instead.  Because the things that have power over you now may not have power forever.  In fact, one day, you may feel that they have no power at all.  Pregnancy doesn't have to be haunted.  Not for us.  We've dealt with all kinds of things that others will never have to and we've fought hard just to stay afloat.  But one day all that struggle might just end, and the armor and weapons we built and hefted around with us will drift peacefully away like falling leaves as our battle days become mere memory.  Like me, you may find that the transition is so quiet and so gentle that you don't even notice it happening.  And then you will have finally gotten one beautiful thing that you didn't have to fight for.

For those who are wondering, I'm having a baby girl. :)

A Long Overdue Update

Maybe I am a cat.

You know how someone decided that cats have nine lives?  I feel like I've got at least three.

There's pre-diagnosis me, post-diagnosis me, and pregnant me.  Let's call them Innocence, Depression, and Prongo Congo.

Innocence and Depression are dead.  Prongo Congo killed them.  She just belly flopped right on top of them and now they are dead.  That's probably why I was so nauseous for a month and a half because I was figuratively vomiting up my former self.  Day and night.  I know it certainly felt like an entire other person came out of me in barf form.

So now I feel like I'm getting to know me as an completely new person.  I'm happier.  I'm friendlier.  I'm lazier.  I'm crazier.  I'm a little chunky around the middle.

And just like making a new friend takes a little time and involves a certain amount of evaluation and hesitation (at least it does if you're an introvert like me), coming to an understanding with my new self has been a bit of a drawn out process.  Because the memory of my former selves still haunt me.

When Little Miss Innocence thought she was pregnant, she used to rub her belly several times a day and whisper, "You are wanted.  You are loved."  I don't do that now.  It scares me.  Like my verbalized affection will somehow make this pregnancy a figment of my imagination, too.  The most I can manage is just putting one hand on my stomach and breathing.

On the other hand, when Depression had hormonal symptoms and mood swings, she would go into a rage and rant at the world about how unfair it was she had to go through so much.  Prongo just laughs and takes it as a sign that things are ok.  Hormones are raging and for the first time ever that is GOOD.

But no matter what I feel about me and who I am and who I was and who I am/was becoming, I can tell you that I know exactly how I feel about my little one, affectionately dubbed "Bear Cub".  I love Bear Cub, and I cannot wait to meet him or her.

And I can tell you the exact moment I knew and my attitude changed from fearful distance to actual love.  It was when I first heard the heartbeat.  For a minute or two, my midwife couldn't find it and I was just lying there on the examination table with my pants unzipped and my stomach covered in goop completely terrified that there was no heartbeat to find and my baby was dead inside of me.  But then she did find it and it was the most beautiful sound I've ever heard.  She said it sounded perfect.  And then I went home and cried because I really like hearing the word "perfect" when it comes to my baby's health.

The second time I got to hear the heartbeat, I recorded a bit of it on my phone and it's the most reassuring thing ever to play it over and over and hear how strong and good it sounds.

So that's how I'm doing.  Identity crisis.  Lots of symptoms.  But a lot of joy and love, too.

I Don't Know What My Feels Are

So I haven't been blogging a lot.  And it's mostly because I don't know how to express what I'm feeling.  Because I don't really know what I'm feeling?  Feelings are weird?

When I was in the trenches my feelings were very difficult to experience, but very, very easy to articulate.  I felt sad/mad/bitter/resentful/hormonal/misunderstood/defective/alone/jealous/unfeminine/unhappy/unmyself.  Now my feelings are easy to deal with but I have no idea what they are.  People keep telling me I seem so much happier.  Am I?  Am I happy?  Is this what happiness feels like?  Could I really have forgotten what happiness feels like to such an extent that I don't recognize it anymore when I feel it?

After months of raging depression and ferocious anger, walking around and not feeling that way is strange and it feels a lot like being emotionless.  Don't get me wrong, I don't miss the emotion storm.  This isn't one of those things where I tell you that I started personifying my depression and came to view her as a constant companion and friend.  Nuh uh.  That jerkface can stay away forever.

But I am trying to figure out who I am without it.  And it's not as easy as just remembering who I was Before, because I'm never going to be that girl again.  That girl never had to deal with ANYTHING as hard as seeing blood on toilet paper and having no choice but to spend the rest of the day crying.  Those experiences changed me.  So if she's gone, and my barren hag persona is, at least for the moment, dormant, then who am I now?  And what does now feel like?

These are the things I have been thinking about lately.  I don't know if they make sense to anyone else.  They barely make sense to me.  But I'm figuring it out, and I'll keep you posted.

(P.S.  For those who have asked, and for those who didn't ask but are still wondering, I'm just over 8 weeks.)

Pregnant Women Who Complain

So you know how one of the worst things that a pregnant woman can do around an infertile is complain about how hard pregnancy is and jokingly ask if said infertile reeeeeally wants to go through it?

Now that I am on the other side, I have some things to say about that.

First of all, pregnancy is totally hard.  Things I have gone through so far include:

1.  Running out of class to throw up.
2.  Walking home even though it takes an hour because I can't bike anymore without vomiting and my husband can't always give me a ride.
3.  Period-like cramps for TWO WEEKS STRAIGHT peppered with sharp pangs that I have never experienced as my uterus swells to an unheard of size (no blood, though, so no cause to worry).
4.  Waking up in the middle of the night to throw up.
5.  Throwing up for half an hour straight, so hard that chunks were coming out my nose, then getting a nose bleed as well so that blood and vomit are just spewing out of my face orifices in an endless stream of disgusting bodily fluids.
6.  Awkwardly avoiding questions from friends and family about my ttc journey because I'm not comfortable telling EVERYONE yet.
7.  Peeing like basically every seven minutes.
8.  Bloating and feeling fat and unattractive.
9.  Constant exhaustion.
10.  Difficulty sleeping because of all the stress dreams and the inconvenience of trying to train myself to sleep on my side when I've always been a sleep-on-the-stomach kind of person.
11.  Insane cravings.
12.  Super fun pimples all over my face.
13.  Inability to eat sushi or rare meat or soft cheeses or alcohol or excessive seafood (all my favorite things).
14.  Wild mood swings that have me sobbing one second and laughing the next.
15.  Fear and anxiety about miscarriage or complications.
16.  Throwing up.  Yes, this deserves FIVE spots on the list because, seriously, it is the worst.

These things are not fun.  They are, in fact, rather inconvenient.  But let me tell you something, ladies.  And I want you to know that I mean this from the bottom of my heart.

Even without all those symptoms, struggling with infertility is still harder.  SO MUCH HARDER.  IT IS NOT EVEN CLOSE.

Because all those things (except the mood swings and the anxiety, but they come with fertility drugs, too) are purely physical, and I can handle physical difficulties all day.  All day.  For nine months.  No freaking sweat.

Having the emotional burden of barrenness and fear that I will never get pregnant lifted off of my shoulders is HUGE.  I'm doing better in school.  I had five interviews last weekend for summer employment and I nailed them, even through the nausea.  In fact, I already have two offers.  I'm remembering all the good things about my life and enjoying being where I am instead of wishing, so hard, that I could fast forward.  Life is honestly, genuinely, dramatically easier now.

So I just want you all to know that when you grumble behind your compassionate nods as some fertile myrtle tells you that you're just so lucky to not have to go through what she's going through... you are so unbelievably right when you think about how wrong she is.  What you're going through is harder.  So much harder.  She will never understand.  But I will understand if you decide to slap her, because she is the worst.

Well. Look at that.

So... I'm pregnant.  (I'm going to tell the story, but I skipped to the conclusion first because I know that's easier sometimes.  Pregnancy is where this is going.  Read on if you would like to.)

One week ago, I lay in bed for about three hours debating with myself whether or not to test.  I didn't want to see another freaking negative but I'd had cramps for several days and no blood and I knew I'd go crazy if I didn't just take the test and be done with it.  Finally, when I really had to pee and couldn't put the decision off anymore, I went to the bathroom, did my business, and then angrily slapped the test down on the counter and got ready to cry all day.  I played a game on my phone while I waited to keep from looking.  But then, because I'm me, I glanced anyway.  I was already telling myself that no line didn't necessarily mean no pregnancy and that I had to wait a couple more minutes to be sure...

Only the line was there right away.  And it was really freaking dark.  Look how dark!

I've pictured my reaction to such a thing several times, but all I felt (and felt strongly) was complete and utter shock.  Just shock.  No thoughts in my head at all other than "Uuuummmm.......?".

I picked it up, stared at it while I walked down the hall, and woke up Husband.  Then I told him I was pregnant.  He mumbled something about how he was very sleepy but that he loved me sooooo much (he's not good with processing information when he's suddenly woken up).

So then I emailed KC, because of everyone in the world she understands most (having just gotten pregnant after infertility herself).

She was very excited.  And that made me really happy because I felt like someone should be and Husband and I were clearly not stepping up to the plate.  Thankfully, she told me that she felt the exact same way when she got her positive and sent me a picture of her holding up a pregnancy test with a "Meh, I'm not sure about this" face.  So that was reassuring.  And eventually Husband woke up a little more and called me back in with a, "Wait, what did you say?"

It's been a week since then and I am still not totally processing this.  On a conscious level, anyway.  I think that I've accepted the reality on a soul level, because I've been really, really happy.  Comments have been made.  "Why are you so dressed up?" (Meaning: Hmmm, you aren't in the baggy sweatshirt and jeans you've worn for the last several months out of an inability to care about anything at all besides babies...),  or "You sound happier than last time we talked."  (Meaning: Man, you're usually super depressing to talk to.  Today less so.)

I'm trying to be patient and not too excited because I know that the time I'm in right now is a dangerous one, that the rate of miscarriage for women with PCOS is higher than normal, and that if I get my hopes up then I will only be crushed if something goes wrong.  But if I'm honest, I think that there realistically isn't anything I can do about making miscarriage less devastating.  I just pray that it won't happen to me because I think I might never recover.

I've decided to keep blogging, but I understand if a lot of readers decide to stop reading.  No hard feelings.  I've stopped reading a few blogs because of pregnancy, too.  And in some ways I feel like I'm betraying everyone by getting pregnant because now I'm one of those women we rant about and I know I might cause some of you pain.  And that just sucks, as many aspects of infertility do.

But the truth is that a pregnancy after infertility is totally different than other, "normal" pregnancies, and I'm still going to need a community of people who get it.  So I hope a few of you stick around.  Either way, I want everyone to know that they mean a lot to me and that I wish them only the best in their lives, whether you stay with my blog or not.  You're all awesome people and I'm so thankful for each and every one of you.

That is what I have to say.

Self-Destructive Googling

Someone needs to put a limit on my daily Google searches.  I should get like three.  And when I use those up, there should be no way for me to Google anything at all until the next day.  Maybe that will teach me.

The following is a list of things that I Google that I SHOULD NOT GOOGLE and reasons why it is a bad idea (not that many of them need any explanation):

Number one:

Offending Search Term: Every symptom I have followed by the word "pregnant"

Examples:  "mood swings pregnant", "hair falling out pregnant", "my nose itches am I pregnant", "is nails growing particularly fast a common pregnancy symptom"

Reasons That It Is A Bad Idea To Search That:  As it turns out, every pregnant woman ever has had every symptom ever and they just freaking love to post about it.  I can't tell you how many times I've read some late night post by a woman who has just suddenly noticed that her toes are hairy or her freckles seem more pronounced and said woman wants to know what such a thing could mean.  Inevitably, there is an onslaught of assurances that she is definitely in the motherly way because Poster #1's sister and Poster #17's mother-in-law had the exact same thing happen and they were both pregnant with triplets.  A few days/posts later the original woman joyously announces that everyone was right and she was pregnant the whole time.  Only with sextuplets.  These stories, they give me hope.  But they should not.  Because my body is crazy and it gives me whatever symptoms it feels like and I fill in the gaps by making up the rest.  Each cycle there's a new one to convince me that this time and with this unique symptom I am definitely knocked up.  Yet I never am.  Turns out sometimes I just get really hungry or hate smelly things or have a metallic taste in my mouth for no reason at all.  Fun!

Why I Do It Anyway:  Because this time is different, you guys.  This time is the time!!

Number two:

Offending Search Term: "adoption agencies in my area"

Reasons That It Is A Bad Idea To Search That:  Because I'm not actually at that stage yet.  We're not in a position to adopt.  It's expensive and it takes a long time and I'm not ready to give up on conventional (or even unconventional) methods of childbearing just yet.  Only it turns out that when I'm not actually ready to help them, staring at pictures of children who have no (or who have really crappy) parents is super freaking depressing.  They all just want love!  How could their parents abandon them!?  And why did those parents get to be parents in the first place when I don't?

Why I Do It Anyway:  I don't know, really.  Maybe I'm hoping I'll fall in love with one of them and be saved from this whole process.  Or maybe I'm just a glutton for punishment.

Number three:

Offending Search Term: "pregnancy announcements after infertility"

Reasons It's A Bad Idea To Search That:  Ugh, this is a big one for me.  I watched some of these videos this morning.  There are so many on YouTube!  The wives usually set up some kind of cute surprise or present to tell their husbands and said husbands are shocked and keep asking "Are you sure?"  Then they tell their parents, who cry and scream and keep saying how happy they are.  Generally there's a lot of hugging.  And by the end of the video, I'm always sobbing.  One hundred percent of the time.  Ugly crying, too.  No single, powerful tear drop framing my face.  Nuh uh.  We're talking red-faced, scrunched-eyes, snot-filled bawling.  I'm happy for them, I'm sad for me, I'm generally emotional all over the place.  And then I'm in a mood for, like, hours.  Husband hates it.  I have to do it mostly when he's not around.  Which is worse because then I'm alone and crying alone is one of my least favorite things to do ever.

Why I Do It Anyway:  I get to live vicariously for a moment.  There's something gratifying about seeing someone else in my position get what I want and then broadcasting their emotions about it online.  And sometimes crying feels good.  I think when it builds up to a certain point I need to let it out, and these videos are a super easy trigger.

Some other things I Google that I shouldn't include:
nursery themes
cute baby announcements
my potential due date every single cycle
babies in Halloween costumes

And, finally, I have literally searched "when will I have a baby?" on multiple occasions.  As if the great internet gods can answer me and my results page will just say "tomorrow, and it will be a boy."  Somehow, that is never the case.

Do you guys have any bad Googling or internet habits like those?

Hosting a Baby Shower

Thanks to a heads-up from KC, it has just come to my attention that my sister-in-law (ie CSIL, ie The One Who Got Pregnant With Twins On Her Second Try and Is Already Ginormous) is planning to at some point ask me whether I would be comfortable hosting her baby shower.

My first response?

I WOULD RATHER GOUGE MY EYES OUT WITH A RUSTY SPOON AND THEN EAT THE RUST-COVERED, SLIMY BALLS WITH A SIDE DISH OF BARBED WIRE DIPPED IN RAT POISON.

Because, actually, I was trying to think of a way to ask her if I could just not come altogether.  Ship her a thoughtful gift and just skip out on the festivities.  Being in a crowd of people excited about babies and talking about how wonderful it will be and how cute they'll be in all the widdle outfits sounds like hell.  HELL.  So, at first, I was medium furious that she would even think of asking me.  In fact, I started angry/depressed/confused/possibly-Clomid-induced crying immediately.

But... then I thought about it...

And this is something that I would have loved doing Before.  And there's only one opportunity for me to throw her a baby shower EVER because if she has any more kids after this they will probably be adopted and even if they're not it's unlikely she'd throw a baby shower for a second (or I guess technically third?) child because who does that?  And if I weren't all barren and depressed, planning this for her would be a really meaningful and special process, so it just sucks that PCOS would take another significant thing from me.  I don't want to let it.

But then back on the other hand, planning a baby shower for someone else while I continue to play host to a barren wasteland of shattered dreams sounds ill-advised.  If I go, I know that I will cry.  Probably in the middle of things.  DEFINITELY in the middle of things if I'm on Clomid.  And if I'm hosting it's going to be a lot harder to sneak off to do that.  Should I invite that pain?  Can I withstand it?  Would it be worth it?

I'm looking for advice here.  If you've attended or hosted a baby shower while struggling with infertility please share your experience and advice.  She hasn't asked me yet, so I have time to formulate a response.

In the meantime, my backup plan is to throw an over-the-top Venetian Masquerade Ball themed baby shower where masks are required and everything is so grand and distracting that no one notices the girl behind my mask is a stunt double and I'm in the bathroom crying.

Vacationing with the Normies

So I went to Reno with my dad this last week because when someone offers you a free trip to Reno, you say yes.  Especially since I've been wanting to get away so much recently.

Only, when I accepted, I did not think about the timing.  Turns out it's ovulation season.  The merriest season of all.  The problem?  Husband did not come on the trip with me.  He was leading a youth retreat several hours away.

Cue the scrambling.  Dr. Angry Eyebrows says we need to do the baby dance every other day and it's a three day trip, so fulfilling our quota is doable, but tricky.  I had to chart my sexytimes by the hour, y'all.

Monday:  Wake up early for sexytimes before embarking on separate trips.  Everyone was very sleepy.

Tuesday:  Sneak out of room shared with Girl I Have Just Met And Don't Want To Tell My Whole Life Story To Yet to take an ovulation test in communal bathroom and then carry it inconspicuously in my pocket back to the room only to find Miss GIHJMADWTTMWLSTY awake and chatty.  Make awkward small talk until she leaves and I can check the result.  No ovulation.  Great news.

Wednesday:  Repeat ninja ovulation testing.  Literally have to throw test under bed to avoid detection when Dad walks in.  Still no ovulation.  Drive home.  Two hour window alone with husband in which to have sexytimes before we have to go to a New Years Eve service.  Husband is going on two hours of sleep and has just driven for several hours.  He is not exactly in the mood.  Allow husband to nap for an hour and 45 minutes and then get it done in the last 15 minutes before we have to go.  High five over accomplishment.

Then we drove to church and welcomed the New Year.

Mission Success!!

But sheesh was it a lot of work.  This is the first time I've ovulated (or, ok, almost ovulated seeing as my first high day was technically today) during a week that I wasn't at home.  Not fun.  Especially not when I think about how I have no idea when this journey will end for me.  What if I have to schedule my life around ovulation for the next several YEARS?  I know some of you have done that already.  How are you still sane?

I think I'm going to start a business selling signs that say things like:

"I'm going to be in this bathroom for a while because my urine is about to tell me whether sex in the next few days is mandatory or just advisable.  Stay out.  Don't judge me.  And do not ask about the results or I will ask YOU very personal and uncomfortable questions.  For example, why aren't you married yet?  Is it because you're so nosy?  Is it because no one could ever love someone so invasive?  GO AWAY WHY ARE YOU STILL READING THIS."

or

"We're trying to create life right now; please leave.  YES, it has to be right now.  Right freaking now.  I'm as thrilled by the timing as you are.  But if it doesn't happen right freaking now then we have to wait another month, so if you interrupt us then you are contractually obligated to pay for my wasted month of drugs, my ovulation kit, and a month's worth of therapy.  You may also have to pay for a new face because I will claw the one you have right off.  Thank you in advance for your understanding."

Any takers?

Christmas: A Recap

So I drove home for Christmas (about two hours from where I live now).  And I forgot to bring my Clomid.

I FORGOT TO BRING MY CLOMID.

Sooooo here is how my Christmas morning went down.

I got up early and called my gynecologist.  Turns out he does not work on Christmas.  Wonderful.

I called the office and asked for the on-call nurse.  She did not want to help me.  She also clearly did not want to be working on Christmas.  I am not her biggest fan.

I called again and asked for a different on-call nurse.  She was very helpful and told me that she could tell a local pharmacy to page my gynecologist and ask him to authorize filling my prescription there.  I said, "Excellent.  How long will that take?"  She said (basically), "I dunno.  Some amount of time.  Have fun not being able to do anything with your Christmas while you wait!"

I called the pharmacy, and I got put on hold.  FOR HALF AN HOUR.  Finally, someone answered and I quickly explained my situation and asked whether they had been able to page Dr. Angry Eyebrows yet.  Silence.  Turns out the call was dropped as soon as someone answered.

I broke some things.

I called the pharmacy again, and the cheery automated voice let me know that there were about six callers in front of me.  Last time I called there were only three.

I rage-screamed, "SCREW THIS!" and drove to the store to give them a piece of my mind in person.

It is very important to me at this time that you know that I looked like this:

I didn't get to have any Christmas spirit the entire month of December thanks to finals, so when it was actually Christmas Day I may have overcompensated a bit.

But anyway, I'm waiting in line, looking like that, FOR AN HOUR, and I finally get to the front.  I explain my story for about the sixteenth time that day to the nice man behind the counter, and he looked up my information for me.  They did not have my Clomid ready yet.  Not even close.  Also I am fairly sure that he looked at me and thought, "Really?  YOU want to procreate?  You look like you are 14.  Also an insane person."  I tried to act as mature and child-ready as possible, but in pigtails and an ugly Christmas sweater it's pretty tricky.  He told me to come back in an hour.  I told him to go die.

No, I did not.  He was very nice.

But I did get right back in line again and wait for another hour.  When I finally got to the front for Will You Give Me Drugs Now: The Sequel, I was rather grumpy.  But I was not as grumpy as Miss I'd-rather-be-home-drinking-eggnog-than-anywhere-near-this-waiting-hoard-of-sick-people behind the counter.  She gave me attitude.  But she also gave me drugs.

Hooray!  Crisis averted!  And it only took me about four and a half hours to get it sorted!  I could have driven home and back in that time, and I would have had an extra half hour.  Additionally, I had to pay full price because the store didn't have my insurance information and I didn't have it on me.  AND thanks to the time-consuming nature of all the hassle, I had to take it like three hours later than I was supposed to.  I hear that taking it at inconsistent times increases your side effects.  So.  I'm looking forward to that.

Merry Christmas!!

Merry Christmas!

So I got a package from Kentucky Cousin a couple nights ago, and when I opened it there was just a pile of cat figurines.  I immediately started laughing and setting them up on display, and each one I set up only made me laugh harder.  Because cat figurines.  I didn't even need the attached note to explain what the gift meant, but I still wanted to frame it when I saw it because it just said "Merry Fucking Christmas! <3 Aunt Flo".  If you don't get it, read this and then realize how great this present is and then come back.

It's a great present, right!?

And I really needed this gift right now because sometimes I forget why I started this blog and what the title really means to me.  Infertility sucks.  It's the worst.  It's full of pain and heartache and disappointment and mood swings and well-meaning but incredibly insensitive questions and embarrassing symptoms and inopportune crying fits and invasive doctor visits and scheduled sexytimes and jealousy and insecurity and bitter aliens from the planet Clomid who take over your body and make you furious for no reason.

But it's also funny!  Or at least, it can be.  And I want this blog to be a place where I can look PCOS in its ugly face and tell it a knock-knock joke.

For example:

Knock knock.

Who's there?

A pregnant woman.

A pregnant woman who?

A pregnant woman who has five seconds to get off my lawn before I strap her down and blow up her Facebook feed with pictures of MY stomach all day for the next nine months.  Enjoy, fatty!  You'll never be this skinny again!

So anyway that's why I'm here.  Turning infertility into WINfertility since 2014.  And I hope I can make you smile in the process.

Here's a picture of the new display in my living room:

Is There An Escape Button?

Sometimes I really wish that I didn't have to deal with this.  With anything, actually.

Normally, I don't consider myself a quitter.  In fact, anyone who knows me will tell you that my stubbornness and my fight are two of my defining characteristics.  The first time I went rock climbing, the instructor pointed out three paths to the top, saying, "This one is nice and easy with a lot of foot holds.  This one will require some creativity, but it's not too difficult.  This one over here is basically impossible, even for experienced mountain climbers."  And I started on the last one.  Without hesitation.  I didn't make it to the top, of course.  I fell.  But I fell trying.  And as I screamed and plummeted through empty air before my rope went taut and I could feel the support of my harness, I had no regrets.  I was ready to try again.  Because that is just who I am.

But something about this is starting to kill that in me.  And since that's one of my defining characteristics, it feels like it's just killing me.

Lately, I've been fantasizing about dropping out of law school, quitting my job, throwing out the drugs and deciding that I'll figure out children later, and then moving to some small town where no one knows me and starting over.  Taking a month or so off before just getting some boring retail job that doesn't suck my soul out of my nose and dangle it mockingly in front of me.  Or, I don't know.  Just something random.  Be a lion tamer.  Or a robber barren.  Or maybe just like a really nosy neighbor.  Something, anything, completely different from my life now.

Because right now, I can't catch a break.

My boss is such a stickler for attendance that he actually got mad at my husband for missing a total of three days last year.  He missed them in order to attend two weddings and a funeral.  But apparently we should have chosen two of those three events and said "Sorry!  Can't come!" to the third.  So no break there.

Law school has "breaks", but the work is so brutal that both Thanksgiving and Spring Break are NECESSARILY spent studying, Winter Break is only a couple of weeks and full of holidays and other such non-break events, and you can forget about taking summer off because you're expected to work AT LEAST full time, and probably with a commute that's about an hour to avoid competing directly with everyone in your entire class.  So no breaks there either.

And obviously, taking a break from infertility isn't a real thing.  I wish it were.  I wish that I could just turn my feelings off, put the effort on hold, and happily carry on with my life for a while without thinking about how badly I want a child and how completely ineffective my efforts in that regard have been so far.  But I can't do that.  It's basically all I think about these days no matter how hard I try not to, and despite the fact that there is exactly NOTHING new to think about because this process is the same freaking thing month after month.  Waiting and then trying to control things and then waiting and then starting to hope and then waiting and then planning even though you tell yourself not to and then waiting and then total, utter despair.

And then waiting.

Two Days Early

Brother and CSIL visited this last weekend.  They only just left yesterday.  And... it was draining.  I was not at my best.  She's really starting to show now, and she's got a lot of rather noticeable symptoms.  So I feel like I can't hide from her pregnancy at all anymore.  Even if we're not talking about it (which is infrequent), it's just so visibly present that I can't think about anything else when she's nearby.

At one point on the trip, CSIL got so nauseated that we had to pull over so she could throw up in a parking lot.  And as I watched her dab at the mess with napkins as the rest of us scrambled to get ginger ale and saltines and hand sanitizer, I actually felt jealous of her.  Jealous.  I wished so fiercely that I were vomiting in a parking lot, too.  And that made me feel pathetic, you guys.  Just absolutely pathetic.

But it still wasn't as awful as the way I felt when I got my period today.  Two days early.  I didn't even get a chance to hope.

And it hurts, you know?  It just hurts.

Because I wasn't even looking for it yet.  AF never comes early.  Only recently has "on time" even been a thing.  It's like I was waiting for Christmas to open my presents and then someone opened them for me two days early and everyone in the world who got me a present decided that cat figurines was the way to go.  I don't like cat figurines.  What would I do with them?  What about me made people look at me and think, "That woman must love her some tiny statues of fluffy things"?  And not only do I not get to wait for Christmas anymore and not only do I get these terrible gifts instead of gifts I want and not only do I have to try and figure out why no one in my life understands me, but now, even though I never wanted them in the first place, I have a whole freaking collection of cat figurines that I have to display in my house.  So people are going to come over and see my collection and think, "Oh, she must like those."  And then they will buy me more.  Cat figurines will be my whole life.  I will be the crazy cat lady even though I am married and have, like, one cat.  Tops.  Meanwhile, I get to watch everyone else get the presents that I actually wanted and talk about how cool they are and how wonderful life is and how special this whole wonderful holiday season has been and I will have to be happy for them.  Or everyone will think I'm horrible.

Clomid v. Finals: the Clash of the Titans

Whose freaking idea was it for me to start Clomid the month of finals?  WHOSE?  I would like to have some words with that person.

Because finals are stressful.  And a law school final is a very special kind of stressful that requires full attention, full commitment, full dedication, and approximately half of your soul.  Per final.  If you have more than two finals (as most people do) then you are beyond soulless.  I am very sorry.

It's nice to not be a 1L anymore (meaning in my first year of law school), because 1L finals take like 150% of your soul and also all of your joy and your tears and your will to live.  I am not exaggerating when I tell you that every single day I went to the law school last year during finals I walked in on someone crying.  In the bathroom.  In an empty classroom.  In the middle of the hallway.  Crying everywhere!  Dreams shattering!  Sanity crumbling to bits!

Due to support from Husband and family and my own willpower, I was not one of The Criers and I did pretty well through the process mentally, emotionally, and academically.  So I didn't really think much about taking Clomid right before finals, because if I can handle 1L year, I can basically handle anything.  It did not even occur to me that there would be an issue.

But even if I had thought about it, I might have taken it anyway because I was completely sure that I would fall in the weepy camp of Clomid takers, and then worst case scenario I could just pretend to be a 1L again and not a single person would question my tears.

But I do not fall into the weepy camp.  I am firmly in Camp Rage, and if I cry they are tears of fury mixed with blood and I drown you with them while I laugh.

So when you take finals, which are already very stressful and frustrating and soul-killing, and you add in my new habit of reacting to every little thing that annoys me with PURE AND UNADULTERATED FURY, what you get is me on a month-long wrathful rampage.

So yesterday, my boss said something very disrespectful to me, my clinic didn't come through for me on something my client NEEDED, and I didn't have time to address either of them because I had to start studying for Evidence which I am not at all prepared for and which I need to GET prepared for in, oh, two days (one of which has 7 hours of church commitments already carved out of it).  I can't even tell you how many times I punched my pillow or screamed or angry cried.  Husband literally backed away from me slowly at one point.

Basically, I am a fire-breathing Godzilla and I am barely leashed and at the slightest provocation I WILL BURN THIS ENTIRE CITY DOWN SO THAT NO ONE HAS TO TAKE FINALS.  NO ONE.  Heaven help me if I'm still this rage-y when my period comes.  Who knows what I'll do.

Guess what!?

So I've learned that I can't start conversations with the words, "Guess what?" anymore.

We had our last Appellate Advocacy class last night, and they revealed the final rankings for the competition.  I was surprised and really pleased to find out that I ranked ninth.  And it's a class of 77, which means that I did better in the four weeks of competition than 68 of my peers did, even dealing with everything else I'm dealing with.  It was very exciting!  They called my name, I walked down to the front, they gave me a certificate, the President of the Moot Court Board shook my hand (which was pretty funny because he's actually a friend of mine and I'm not used to being so formal with him), and then I went back to my seat all proud and pleased with myself.  In my excitement I fired off a Facebook chat "Guess what?" to friends and family members that I had talked about the competition with and who had indicated that they wanted to know the results when I found out.

Freaking all of them were like, "ARE YOU PREGNANT!?"

Ugh.  As if I would tell them via Facebook chat if I were.  I mean, really?  And who starts a life-changing conversation like that with "guess what"?  Also most of them know or should know that I only just had my period a couple weeks ago.  So.  Get it together, friends and family.

But it really brought me down.  I went from really happy to ready to cry in like two seconds, and this time it wasn't the Clomid's fault.  Because not only was it really crushing to be reminded of my infertility when I had managed to think about something else for a full two minutes, but also it was really awkward to then be like, "No... still pretty barren down there.  I actually just wanted to tell you that I did pretty well in this class I'm taking...  You know what?  Never mind.  Sorry for the false alarm.  My news sucks."

So... lesson learned.  I'm never going to ask anyone to guess anything about my life ever again.  Not ever.

On the plus side, if I ever do get pregnant, at least I now know that it will not be difficult to segue into the announcement at all.

Symptoms Part 2

So now my symptoms have just gotten weird.  Mood swings I was prepared for.  Even hot flashes.  But today I just got a bunch of random things.

Nausea/vomiting!

Cramps in my lady parts!

A really weird and intense pain on half of my face that extends from just below my jaw to my brain bits!

That last one doesn't even make sense, but I Googled it and a bunch of people have jawline pain on Clomid.  WHY!?  What reason could there possibly be?  Is jaw pain hormonal?  Does making me feel like my brains are going to burst out of my skull somehow prepare my uterus for fertility?

But whatever.  I'll take whatever I have to take, because the ol' ovulation kit says today is a flashing smiley face day, and that means that I ovulate soon.  So husband and I are having our scheduled sexytimes and hoping to make a baby in this weirdo, symptomatic, drugged-out body of mine.  Wish us luck.

'Cuz it's going to take some willpower to down these pills next month if they don't work now.

Thanksgiving

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.

Symptoms

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.

IT WAS SO WEIRD.

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.

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.

HAHA.  JUST KIDDING.  THAT DID NOT HAPPEN AND I DO NOT KNOW WHY I THOUGHT IT WOULD BECAUSE OF COURSE IT DIDN'T HAPPEN.  WHEN BABIES ARE BROUGHT UP THE TOPIC STAYS ON BABIES FOREVER.

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.

LOL, NOPE.  JUST KIDDING AGAIN.

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.