Dream a Little Dream

I first started having pregnancy dreams shortly after Mr. Stick and I got together. They were pretty infrequent and never made it past the "BFP" stage, and for a long time they used to fill me with anxiety because I didn't feel ready for motherhood yet. I would always wake up relieved.

After we started TTC, I would still infrequently get these dreams and wake up terribly disappointed. The last such dream I remember having was the summer of 2009, and the dream had progressed to the point where a friend of mine was sending hand-me-downs from her twins(!) to me.

I knew that things weren't going well when suddenly I stopped dreaming of BFP's and started dreaming of BFN's. It wasn't bad enough that I had to experience disappointment in my real, waking life; apparently my subconscious decided it needed to remind me of my barrenness in my dreaming life as well.

A few months ago, I finally dreamt of a BFP again, but then after that came the miscarriage dreams - only two of them. I couldn't even blog about them - they haunted me terribly to the point where I wondered if it was even worth getting pregnant if I was only going to experience the kind of pain that my dreams merely hinted at.

And then last night, I dreamt I was pregnant again. Not just a BFP - I was in the hospital on my due date, waiting for my contractions to begin.

The sad thing about this dream is that IF had pervaded me so much to the point where I still didn't believe I was pregnant. My waistline was thick, but only a few inches larger than my current size, and I had gained only ten pounds. The nurse was debating whether to induce me, and I was arguing with her that I needed an ultrasound to confirm a heartbeat because I wasn't sure if I was pregnant, and I d*mn well knew that even if I was, I was too early along to even consider giving birth. I started crying, and I told her that nothing was even moving inside me, and this all seemed like a really cruel joke.

So she guides me into the ultrasound room, wands me, and I see a big smile come over the nurse's face. I look over (and remember folks that this is a dream), and it's not just a 3-D ultrasound, but a holographic representation of my baby. She's a girl, and she looks more like a 6-9 month old than a newborn - she has hair, her eyes are squeezed shut, and she is...beautiful. Not just beautiful in the "all babies are beautiful" sort of way but quite literally, physically beautiful in the way that I automatically think, "I'm going to be terrified the day she turns 15."

I worry about my lack of weight gain, and the nurse tells me that there is at least 15 pounds worth of baby and fluids in me (which is strange that she gave me a combined weight as opposed to the baby's weight), so I'm going to be just fine. (Which at that point, vain old me goes, "Wow - I won't even need to lose baby weight!")

Then we leave the room, and I see that a whole bunch of friends and family have come into the hospital to show their support and, in their words, "distract me" from all the pain I am about to experience. But I welcome the idea of the pain because I am happy and not scared anymore.

Waking up sucked big time. It took me a few moments to even realize that I had been asleep and dreaming, and all I wanted to do was crawl into that dream again and see the whole thing through.

I'm glad that my subconscious is feeling hopeful, even if the rest of me isn't quite there yet. And maybe this will sound pathetic, but a part of me is really happy that I know a little now what it feels like to really be pregnant...even if those feelings are just shadows of the real experience...and even if it was only in my dreams.

Clomidia

That's the new term Mr. Stick and I have been bandying about that encompasses my descent into the hazy, hot-blooded, teary-eyed fog I go into when I'm "under the influence." :)

I'm a little less whacked out this go-around than last - DH is trying hard to be more patient and sensitive with me, and my acupuncturists put me on a different herb regiment to keep me "cooler." I can tell that I'm less edgy, but I'm still getting super hot at night.

Dreams have been really odd and disturbing again. Last night's was kind of gross, so you should stop reading if you're squeamish. I dreamt that I got my period and was passing...plants. Yes, plants.

I have no idea what to make of it - if I think of it one way, it seems to suggest fertility. But if I think of it another way, it seems like everything is a lost cause down there. Or maybe it's just because of all the "stick" references in this blog.

In other news, I've just learned that two friends are both pregnant with their first. They are few years older than I am, so DH thinks that this bodes well for us. Maybe, but I somehow doubt they took 2+ years to conceive. At this point, it's like comparing apples with oranges. I know age matters and all that, but infertility is infertility.

It's not just the LH that is surging...

Sorry if this post is TMI. You have been warned.

Okay, someone needs to hold me down right now before I dash in and throw myself at Mr. Stick.

There is something about seeing that little egg image in my ClearBlue monitor that turns me into raging horny woman. Just knowing that the fertile window that is oh-so-rarely is unlatched is WIDE open with the wind blowing in...I want sperm in there, damn it!

I am under strict orders not to BD for 48 hours before my IUI, which is scheduled for tomorrow morning. Logically, I know this makes sense. My surge just appeared, eggs will not be dropping for another 24-48 hours, and the IUI gives those sperm an extra few hours so they don't get all tired out swimming into my uterus (okay, I'm kind of making that last part up).

But someone tell that to the crazy, OCD, hormonal control freak in my head! And don't get me started on the fertile CM that I can feel building up in my lady-parts.

Okay Stickles, need to breathe in...breathe out...that IUI is arriving sooner than you think. Do not, I repeat, do not touch your husband until then. And put away that cute lacy underwear...I know what you're thinking...

Edited to add...

See, I'm so wrapped up in my crazed state that I forgot to blog last night's dream!

I clearly have IUI on my mind because I dreamt that I was going over the sperm analysis results with a technician. A technician who was...Sarah Silverman.

WTF? Sarah Silverman? Is this strangely connected to my Jason Bourne dream (you know, that whole "Matt Damon/Jimmy Kimmel" thing...)?

Outed at the Chocolate Party

Okay, so I totally wasn't kidding about the stuffing myself with chocolate yesterday. A friend of mine had invited me to a chocolate tasting shindig where the hostess was going to have us try different types of chocolate bars she had created and film our reactions and thoughts about them.

It was a ton of fun, and I found out quickly that pretty much everything goes with dark chocolate: sriracha, jalapeno salt, candied ginger, wasabi peas...not altogether, of course. Or maybe altogether...hmm... I was told that I am a "chocolate masochist" who likes a little darkness and spice and burn and bitterness in her chocolate - I wonder if this is a metaphor for what I've been attracting in my life...

Anyway, one of the tasters brought her new 3-month-old baby to the party, and there was the usual oohing and ahhing. (He was pretty cute - a redhead!) Of course, talk turns to "When are you going to have a baby?" and "How long have you been married?"

I demurred on the baby thing as best I could ("Yeah, we want kids." and "Boy, my in-laws ask me that all the time!"). I'm okay talking about IF to friends and family, but not a party full of cheerful strangers eating chocolate.

But I must have set someone's IF-radar off, because the next thing I know, the hostess is sitting next to me, and she says quietly, "Yeah, I've been married 5 years, and we have had trouble having a child."

And before you know it, we are sharing our stories in low and hushed voices while everyone else is bustling about trying chocolate and cooing over the baby. I talk about Clomid, she talks about ectopic pregnancies, we exchange impressions and thoughts about adoption.

Except for blogging, this is the first time I have ever actually talked to someone about IF who was going through the same thing and knew what it was all about. None of the asinine advice or awkward sympathy, just a mutual sharing and condoling. I had no idea how cathartic that would feel.

One of the hardest things about IF is the isolation. I am by most measures an introvert, someone who craves time alone and enjoys solitude. I have often prided myself on my ability to be alone without feeling lonely, but IF has completely changed that for me. The pain of the experience has humbled me, taught me to reach out, to share my feelings, and to seek solace in a community of peers.

So ladies, thank you for being there. Really. (Here comes the tearing up. It's the Clomid...really...)

It's just the start of ICLW and already your comments have gone such a long way to easing that loneliness that was starting to take root. It's bad enough having that hole in your life where a baby should be - I feel blessed to have people around me making sure that hole doesn't get any bigger.

And now for something completely different...

I swear I am not making these up, but yesterday before I went to bed, I said to myself, "If you're going to have a whacked out dream, make sure it's a good one so I can entertain the blog readers." And what did I get?

I am in college, and I have a mad crush on my male roommate. We are good friends and go watersliding together. (I mean, how cool is it to have waterslides at my imaginary college?) Just when I think things might finally heat up between us, he pulls me aside and tells me he has to leave town to complete a mission involving the Cold War and asks me to stay safe. Who is my roommate? Why, Jason Bourne, of course!

Caught in a Clomid Haze...

Hello ICLW'ers! This being my first go-round on ICLW, I had a brainfart and thought it didn't start until Monday. I was planning on crafting a clever and absorbing story today to post tomorrow, but oh well - let's go with the flow. As with everything else in my life these days, I blame it on Clomid. (I'm currently on my second cycle of it, with our first IUI scheduled sometime late next week - whee!)

Clomid has become my new go-to excuse for everything that is going wrong with me. My first round of Clomid last month was so easy - no mood swings, some interesting ovary sensations, and a slightly elevated BBT - I was kind of worried it wasn't working.

Not this month though! I'm in a good enough mood at the moment to gleefully tell you that I have been bitchy, irritable, depressed, and so prone to tears that I might as well change my handle to Crying McWeepy.

It's driving Mr. Stick completely bananas, as he has been overwhelmed by a work project that is making him pretty prickly himself. We've had a couple of the stupidest fights you have ever heard of - arguments over me watching SVU while he's trying to wrap up work, arguments over the cat peeing outside her litterbox, arguments whose cause I can't even remember now - usually culminating in my dissolving into a puddle of tears while my husband wonders where on earth his usually rational and chipper wife went.

To compound the issue, Clomid is really messing with my sleep. I get ridiculously hot under the covers, tossing and turning constantly, and the crazy-whacked-out dreams have me waking up in the middle of the night going "Wha?" Some highlights:

• I am a dance teacher in a third world country having a will-they or won't-they moment with a guy that looks like the choir teacher from "Glee"
• There is a pregnancy test mixup in my house ala "Ugly Betty" between me...and my 18-year-old daughter. Turns out we are both pregnant (this is both disturbing and hopeful to me).

Of course, the big fear underlying all of this is - what if this isn't Clomid?" What if this is really me, and I've just finally become worn down by all the infertility crap? And if it is Clomid, how am I going to deal with this for the next few months? And if it isn't Clomid, how am I going to deal with this for the rest of my life?

I am such a drama queen. Ugh. Time to go bury myself in chocolate...

The Fear of Being Left Behind

I had an intense dream last night:

DH and I were going to some fancy dress banquet/party/dance thing. It was so crowded that we had to carpool into the city with friends, and there were some complicated parking logistics. We had to drop off our car at a valet parking lot, where there was a large waiting area of people waiting to grab a shuttle to the actual event.

I don't remember much of the big event, except that at some point it was ending, and I couldn't find the people I came with, including DH. It was so very crowded, and I worried that they had already headed over to the parking area and would leave without me. So I pushed through the masses of people to grab a shuttle with a bunch of strangers and remember asking them if they would give me a ride home if I couldn't find my friends.

They said, "Well, we all live in the city, and you are too far out. But you can stay with one of us if you need to." 

We got to the large waiting area of people who were waiting for the valets to deliver the car, and I couldn't find my friends or DH anywhere. As I walk around, I keep running into people I know who want to chat, so I talk a little but keep my eye out for my friends. 

Then, in the corner of my eye, I spot that their big yellow car has pulled up, and everyone is already in it, preparing to leave. I frantically pound on the window (of the waiting room, not the car) hoping to get their attention so they know not to leave me.

As I turn around, I realize that I don't have all my stuff with me, and I begin to gather it up. And the more things I pick up (a jacket, a purse, a change of clothes, books, wallet, even little gift bags with jewelry boxes), the more things I realize I have brought with me. The process of gathering my things takes at least five or ten minutes, as I have so much I keep dropping something.

Finally, I dash out into the lot holding my ginormous pile of crap. The valet says something like, "You're too late. They've already left." I feel completely deflated and start darting my eyes for a taxi, cursing over how expensive it is going to be to get one from the city to home. 

And then I see them. My friends waving at me. They had driven out of the valet area to park on the side and wait for me. They seem a little annoyed that I got lost but more troubled that I had thought they would leave me behind. I am so, so relieved. And then I wake up.

I don't always sit around analyzing my dreams, but then again they rarely come to me in such vivid detail. The moment I woke up, I knew inside that this was all about my issues with infertility. IF is so heavy and ever-present on my mind these days that it's residing on all levels of consciousness.

So here are the thoughts and questions I've had running through my head:

• To me, the dream clearly represents my fear of being left behind, as my friends start families around me. It's also one of feeling bad (though not necessarily regretful) of waiting so long to start trying. Did I stay at the party too long? 
• The most troubling part of the dream was losing DH and navigating the crowd alone. What does it mean that he was with my friends and not with me? Or was it because he was with my friends that they waited so patiently for me to come?
• The strangers who lived in the city were so obviously childless to me. They were well-dressed, edgy, bon-vivant types, with no intention of driving me to where I wanted to go but welcoming me to stay with them. I think they represent an child free lifestyle that is fun and carefree. I don't want that life, but it is not so wholly unappealing to me. 
• One of the people I ran into when I was in the valet waiting area is a friend who has given up the potential for a typical family life for a solitary calling as a Catholic monk. I was happy to see him, but...whoa...
• What does the car of friends really represent? On the surface, it seems to be a symbol for family, fertility, comfort, familiarity. But the driver of the car was a good friend of mine who is gay and childless (with no intention of having children), so it's not so obvious.
• Taking the taxi seems to be like...getting IVF. Expensive, not the way I planned, but it will get me to where I want to be.
• What is with ALL the stuff I am gathering up? Are they expectations? Are they experiences? Why am I so unwilling to leave behind my crap when I'm running the risk of missing my ride? What are these things weighing me down? Why are these things weighing me down?
• And as anxiety-provoking as the dream was, it had a happy ending, didn't it? They were waiting for me, when I worried that they had left me behind. So is this dream telling me that everything will be ok? Or is it saying that I'm really cutting it close and need to hurry along?