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.

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.

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.

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.

AND THEN I WENT CRAZY.  I BOUGHT A LARGE PIZZA.  AND I ATE IT.  AND I DRANK THE ALCOHOL (One bottle.  Calm down.  I didn't have the whole six pack.  And if we're really being honest, I only had two slices of the pizza.).  AND THEN I DUG UP THE COFFEE ICE CREAM THAT'S BEEN IN THE FREEZER FOR THE LAST THREE MONTHS BECAUSE I COULDN'T EAT DAIRY AND HUSBAND DOESN'T LIKE COFFEE AND I ATE THAT, TOO.

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.

Friendsgiving

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. :/

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.)

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.

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.

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.

BUT THAT IS NOT HOW LIFE WORKS FOR US.  NOT EVER.

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

AND.  AND!!

SHE IS HAVING TWINS.

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.

ON HER EFFING BIRTHDAY.

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.