Don't Ride If Pregnant

So one of the best things about being on a break is getting to do things pregnant women can't do - sushi, alcohol, and caffeine naturally come to mind, but at the top of the fun list is scary thrill rides. And while I didn't get on actual roller coasters per se, Mr. Stick and I played hooky today and went to Schlitterbahn, which is the best darn waterpark I've ever been to.

It's a ginormous, sprawling complex that's basically three mini-waterparks in one. The first time we went, we didn't get to everything. This week, they were running a saver special where they only opened two of the waterparks, and school is still in session, so we pretty much got to go on every major ride/slide 2-3 times. One of them we went somewhere between 6-8, we lost count.

Anyway, I really wish I'd had a camera on me (which I conveniently left at home because...duh, there's WATER EVERYWHERE) because on every sign before a big ride there was posted a big warning against expectant mothers riding, accompanied by this graphic of a stork carrying a baby and a big red/circle/slash on top of it. After seeing it for the umpteenth time, Mr. Stick goes, "Wow - that could be the international sign for infertility!"

LOL. That boy cracks me up.

Speaking of which, I have to shout out to my fellow bloggers who now cannot ride the "Master Blaster" or the "Dragon's Revenge" with me. Congratulations and sticky vibes to Leslie (Evolutionary Dead End), Adele (Delinquent Eggs), Type A (Type A Nightmare), Sew (Sew Infertile) and Samantha (And Baby Will Make 3). Here's hoping all of you except Samantha have a reason to change your blog names soon!

F*ck, Are You For Serious?

As if we didn't have enough sh*t to worry about: Infertility Drugs Raise Autism Risk?

Happy May ICLW!

Thanks for stopping by my blog! If you're new, the post with all our IF details is here.

The Current State of Things

After 3 Clomid cycles (2 with IUI), Mr. Stick and I are sitting this next one (and probably the one after that as well) out. There were a couple of reasons why - we're preparing for a big trip, we get better insurance next month, but the most important one is that I just plain realized that I needed to take a break.

So no meds and no procedures (and no wands up my hoohah!), but I'm still doing weekly acupuncture, taking vitamins (though not as religiously) and temping because my acupuncturist reads my chart each week. We'll see if I have the willpower to stay away from the OPK's in the next two weeks.

Oh, and the strange and sad thing is within a week of taking a break, I got four pregnancy announcements. One from my best friend, which I didn't take so well, one from a really good childhood friend, one from a local buddy, and lastly a surprise birth announcement from a friend of Mr. Stick's. Sigh - I feel like I'm starving in the midst of plenty.

And While I Have Your Attention...

I figured I'd pass along two really great offers that might interest you, dear reader.

1) Beckie's Infertility Journey is giving away an Ultimate Fertility Package this month.

Girlfriend is giving away an OV-Watch starter Kit, Pre-Seed , Fertility Socks, A Few Good Eggs Fertility Book, and chocolate and herbal tea. Go to her website to get the details on how to sign up for the offer. And just to let you know, even though I'm signed up too, if I can't win it, then I'll be just as happy if you win it!

2) This isn't really IF-related, but Zoya Nail Polish is running their nail polish exchange through June 30.

Zoya makes a toluene, phtalate-free nail polish that's pretty popular among preggies. The way their exchange works is, you mail in 6 or more of your old nail polishes plus $3.50 s&h for each bottle you mail in. Then, they'll mail you back the same number of Zoya nail polishes - you can pick from about 300 different colors. It's a good way to get rid of your old, toxic crap and get some new colors in for sandal season.

That's it! Thanks for dropping by - leave me a comment, and I'll do my best to return it. This community has given me so much support and love that I'm always happy to pay it forward.

That answers it!

Just had this convo with DH not five minutes ago.

Mr. Stick: Hey! My friend T just had a baby.
Stickles: WTF? I didn't even know he got married.
Mr. Stick: He didn't.
Stickles: Wow - isn't that like a huge scandal?
Mr. Stick: No, my mom says everyone in Greece has a baby first these days before getting married.
Stickles: Oh great, that's our problem. We got married first. No wonder nothing's coming. F*cking A!

(Imagine this as sarcastic and perky banter. I didn't have a meltdown like last week or anything. In fact, the number of pregnancy/birthing announcements has gotten downright comical.)

Friendly Fire

Thank you guys so, so very much for your supporting comments. I LOVE YOU ALL!!! I was in a really bad place last night - I couldn't even read through the first two comments because each one would just set me off in tears again.

I'm...okay. I'm in self-preservation mode right now, which is pretty much the same as self-nurturing mode except that instead of trying to refill a well, I'm just trying to keep the well from going dry. I'm hiding in a bookstore (favorite place of refuge since I was a kid), chilling until my acupuncture appointment. I think if I'm brave enough, I'll let the Poke Clinic know that I'm dealing with some emotional pain, and they'll probably open some more floodgates for me to release all this grief.

If anything, the fact that her news gutted me like that spells out pretty clearly just how depleted I am and that I did make the right decision in stepping back. Throwing "Clomidia" on top of the situation would just make things harder, and I'd be doing it for all the wrong reasons - panic, fear, ego, desperation...

I was trying to articulate to Mr. Stick (remember, supportive but clueless?) why I was so hurt last night, and it boils down to this. I had intuited a few months ago that M was pregnant, and the feeling was strong enough that I was fearful of calling her. (I'm really glad I had blogged my thoughts about it at the time because rereading it helped me articulate this.)

So I had prepared myself, summoned up my courage, called her and then asked her in the course of our conversation if she was. She said no, and then she asked me if I was. Which then segued into a really difficult but good talk where I finally came clean to her about IF.

I understand, of course, why she lied. (And I realize now that she did lie because in that first phone call, she wanted me to give her recommendations for a trip to Hawaii she was about to take, and I learned yesterday that they had originally planned this trip for late fall - until they found out that she was going to be due in November.)

But that lie created for me a false sense of security. I think that a lot of IF'ers protect ourselves in a subtle way when we are among "civilians" (I prefer that term to "fertiles") - I feel like I am on constant alert for a pregnancy bomb to drop. With M, my defenses were completely down. I was totally vulnerable. I didn't even have my usual flippant and witty persona on because I was in a state where I was feeling light, free, and trusting of myself.

So to beat the military analogy to death once and for all, I got taken down by friendly fire.

Mr. Stick had a really interesting take on it, which I think I will be able to accept when I'm in a stronger state of mind. He said that I had an intuition, a voice that was telling me to be careful around M because I thought she was pregnant, and I ignored it because she originally told me something I wanted to hear.

And then he told me that yesterday, I trusted myself and listened to that voice when it was telling me to take a break and give myself what I needed. So...in a way, the universe was reaffirming that my intuitions are correct, that I need to listen to myself and trust myself more. Because when it comes to my emotional health, I know more than my RE and even my closest friends.


(I need to give some props to Mr. Stick, btw, because despite my flippant comment about his cluelessness, he has been an absolute rock. One of the reasons I wanted to take a break was so that I could give the poor guy a reprieve from the fertility-drug-addled Crying McWeepy alien that has taken me over these past few months, and instead he gets an emotional meltdown straight out of the gate.)

Anyway...so...here I am, hunkered down and attempting to rally so that I can make the most of this gift of time I have. I'm still feel pretty emotionally torn up, but that little voice tells me I'm going to be totally okay, and I know that I should listen to her.

Down and up, and then down down down...

This was supposed to be a different post.

I was going to write about how emotionally and psychically drained I've been feeling lately. About how I've been dragging my feet over my planned Clomid/IUI cycle and wasn't feeling any joy or optimism about it.  About how after a really long talk with a close friend yesterday, I had come to realize that I was looking forward to taking a break from TTC more than I was looking forward to trying to get pregnant. And how that made me realize that maybe I shouldn't go through with this next treatment cycle. Because my heart wasn't into it, and deep down I didn't believe that it would work anyway.

I was going to write about how I summoned up the courage to call Dr. G. this morning and cancel my CD baseline ultrasound and admit to you all that I just needed to take a break, get off the treadmill, break the cycle of deja vu. About how light and free I felt after cancelling, that I actually felt more like myself than I had in months.

That I went to the gym for the first time in a really long time and took a salsa aerobics class because I had energy to spare. That I went out with my friend N, and without even knowing what I had done, she said to me over lunch, "What I love about you is that you have such an honor and respect for your body and its needs." And that I then took the $185 I was going to spend on my ultrasound and went and got a haircut, a brow wax, and a brazilian and had leftover money to book a massage with N for next week.

I was going to tell you that I felt like I had taken back my life back, just for a little while. That I did the right thing and listened to that voice inside that said, "I don't feel like doing this," and I gave my tired and anxious self a reprieve. That even though I was going to let go of hope for this cycle, I wasn't going to waste the time - I was going to love, nurture, and take care of myself.

I was at my computer about to write the post. I should've just written the damn post.

Instead, I saw the blinking on my answering machine and realized that my best friend M called. So I called her back.

She's thirteen weeks pregnant. THIRTEEN WEEKS. I had asked her point blank two months ago if she was pregnant, and she told me no.  Maybe she didn't know at the time, but I can't help but feel like she lied to me. My. Best. Friend. Lied. To. Me. About. Being. Pregnant.

That peace I had cultivated for myself? Gone. That little cloud of understanding and bliss that I was floating on? Burst. I feel like the universe has just slapped me in the face.

I don't know how I got through the conversation. How I managed through the "We really weren't thinking about trying for another few months. It happened so fast." or "I had really wanted a March baby." or "I have to buy new maternity clothes because all my old ones were for winter."

I fooled her. Oh, God how I fooled her. I was so nice, I was so sweet. I laughed, and I said all the right things. And I was so very understanding and congratulatory, and all I wanted to do was scream at her, "Why did you have to tell me this today of all days? Why didn't you tell me earlier? Why didn't you tell me later? Why did you have to pee all over my peace parade?"

I have always prided myself on being able to put my grief aside when someone else gets pregnant. This is no longer the case. For the first time in more than two years of TTC, I wept, and I sobbed, and I cursed when I got off the phone after learning that someone else was expecting. I never, ever, ever thought that I would react this way to my best friend of all people.

I feel totally lost. I don't know if I did the right thing anymore. Part of me says yes, and the other part of me says it's not too late to ask for Clomid and get back on the treadmill.

I feel utterly betrayed. Betrayed by the universe, betrayed by my friend, but most of all, betrayed by my own good intentions and love for myself.

Nancy Drew & The Mystery of the Sore Boobs

My breasts hurt.

For most women, this would be cause for pulling out the pee sticks and going to town, but in crazy-upside-down Stickles world, it's just a reminder to stop obsessing and prepare for AF.

Let me back up here just a bit.

Sore breasts used be a once-in-a-blue moon thing for me. I certainly never got them when I was taking the pill, and during those wasted years when I was off the pill and actually "trying-to-avoid" I'd have one or at most two cycles a year where I'd get tender breasts.

Naturally, during these rare occasions, I'd freak out a little that we had an "accident" (more so about the fact that I was probably drinking alcohol and caffeine during my cycle moreso than the reality of being pregnant), but those worries all came to moot.

So the really, really crazy thing is that since we started actively TTC, I get sore boobs during every cycle. Every cycle. This has wreaked severe havoc in my head. Those first few months of TTC, every time my girls started getting tender, I'd whip out the pee sticks only to see a BFN and a visit from AF within 48 hours.

I have asked my OB, my RE, and my acupuncturists about this, and no one can give me a satisfactory answer. The docs think I'm just more sensitive to the changes in my body (which, I don't think so, because those few times I got tenderness in the past *really* stood out - I have notes in my charts to back me up) while acupuncturists seem very pleased by this information because it means that my body is producing good progesterone.

So I am left to wonder if I am really creating my own version of a "hysterical pregnancy" towards the end of the 2ww or if this is an indication that something strange is going on in my body. Like maybe I could actually be conceiving, but something goes wrong at the end of the implantation stage, and no one seems to be catching it.

Oh, and just to throw another curveball...

I've also noticed that these three cycles of Clomid I've been on, I get the sore boobs later in my cycle. In a normal cycle, I start getting sore at 7 dpo and get AF about 4-5 days later. While on Clomid, I'm getting sore at about 10 dpo and getting AF about 2-3 days later. I really don't know what to make of this.

So this is all just to say that although I could obsess over the strange little things that have happened this cycle, like the acne breakout from hell a few days ago, or my need to take a nap yesterday afternoon, the fact that my boobs are sore in exactly the way they've always been sore these past oh...26 months...I'm not having a whole lot of optimism right now.

3 Application Suggestions for Facebook

There you are, scrolling along down the "Top News" on your Facebook account, and BAM! There's nothing like getting blindsided by a pregnancy announcement or picture on your favorite social media network, is there?

As the geeky wife of an even geekier computer scientist, I realized the other day that someone needs to make some infertility-friendly Facebook applications. So here, I present some suggestions for some new apps:

(And apologies in advance if anyone finds this offensive or insensitive as I poke some harmless fun at the state of infertility.)

1. The Pregnancy Announcement Filter

Surely this would be easy right? You could set up filters on all your news alerts to pull out anything containing the words "pregnant, knocked-up, having a baby, etc." You could have an even stronger setting that would pull out things containing more generic terms like "expecting" or "due." More sophisticated versions could have recognition technology that would filter out pregnancy photos and ultrasounds.

You could maybe have it corral all of these announcements into a separate folder or tab, so you can wait until your next CD1 to get drunk and read through them all in one blow.

2. SuperPoke - the Infertility Edition

I don't know if you were on Facebook when the movie "Juno" came out, but SuperPoke ran a movie-related campaign where one of things you could throw at a friend was, yes, a pregnancy test. It was all kinds of funny back then as we were just starting to think about TTC, but I can't imagine how I would've reacted if I had been dealing with my infertility at the time.

So to turn the whole thing on its head, I propose we have an "Infertility Edition" open to infertiles only where we can drown in the irony and throw at each other not just pregnancy tests, but opk's (both positive and negative), prenatal vitamins, tubes of Pre-Seed, packs of Clomid (in 50mg, 100mg, and 150mg varieties), sperm collection jars, Instead cups, Mucinex, salivascopes etc. (The sad thing is that all I had to do to come up with this list is look in my dresser drawer.)

3. InfertilityVille

I don't play online games like Mafia or FarmVille, so I may be totally off on this description, but I wonder if you could educate "civilians" about infertility through one of those games where the object is to build your family.

The game would be rigged so as to give only 1 out of 50 players the ability to do this in an easy and straightforward manner. Everyone else would have to go through virtual Clomid cycles, IUI cycles, injectible cycles, IVF cycles, where success would reflect the real statistics. The game would only allow one chance a week to try for a kid, and that time could be made unpredictable, or trackable only through a virtual OPK.

Players could earn and save up "points" (to be spent on different cycles and strategies) by lending support and services to other players. Telling another player to "just relax" would automatically result in a loss of points. Babysitting another player's child would rack up major points.

Anyway, dear readers, I'm sure you know that I'm not trivializing IF by trying to make a game out of it or anything. It's just hard when a fun distraction like Facebook can turn into a virtual minefield with people posting pregnancy news, baby pictures, etc. I certainly don't blame others for sharing their joy, but I figure we infertiles need to find a way to make Facebook work for us.

Cycle Watch: A Watched Stickles Never Ovulates...

Thanks every one for the supportive comments on my last post. I felt a little mean and ugly putting it out there, and I'm relieved no one decided to rip me a few new ones over it.

I hate the ovulation waiting game. Based on my last two Clomid cycles, I should be getting a peak on my ClearBlue monitor today, but I'm holding steady at "high." It probably will come tomorrow, considering that I can read the pattern of these sticks like a pro by now, but I'm bothered nonetheless.

When you're told to BD every other day and then abstain two days before the IUI, it sounds like easy instructions until your O day becomes a moving target. Now I feel like I'm "off schedule."

Friday's CD 12 ultrasound was pretty typical - lining is at 6.1mm (not a disaster, but nothing to write home about), and I have a 18mm follie on my left side (maybe I'll do better with a left side drop since my last two cycles were on my right and nothing happened). All things considered, I should probably be a little grateful that I'm a little behind on ovulating since it'll give me another day for my lining to build up. (Build cells, build!!!)

I really ought to let go though and just let things be without overanalyzing them. My cycles are notoriously "self-conscious" and stall even longer when I put them under a microscope.

And *DON'T* get me started on that "go on a vacation business." The first time my cycle went over 40 days, I was in Greece. And my longest cycle ever at 49 days (49!!!) happened while I was in Maui. (Of course, now I sound spoiled - "I went to Greece and Hawaii, and all I got was a long menstrual cycle.")

Hope everyone has a happy Monday!!!

The Power of Three

I manipulated a backrub out of my guilty DH last night, I slept in until 10am, and the sun is shining today. Let's hope this day is on the up-and-up, and my appointment with the RE this afternoon shows a beautiful lining ready for IUI.

What I love about ICLW is that reading other people's posts often gives me fodder for mine, especially when I'm in a creativity slump like I've been in lately. Write Baby Repeat had a really moving post yesterday about getting lapped, and all I could think about was a friend of mine who is now expecting her third kid and what a visceral response I had when I learned the news.

For the past year, whenever I hear a pregnancy announcement from a "civilian" (non IF'er), my mind immediately goes into survival mode with a bunch of rationalizing thoughts. There is the sincere "I'm so happy for them," followed by a wistful "How lucky that they'll never have to question themselves about fertility," and then a rather selfish "I hope they won't bombard me with too many pregnancy updates and shower invitations."

Those thoughts take a mean turn, though, when I learn that it's a third or fourth pregnancy. I am immediately flooded with an outraged "How *dare* you?!" followed by an insincere "I hate you!" and then a selfish and childish "Why does the universe hate me so?" It's happened two or three times now, and I always feel totally surprised and ashamed by the depth of my negativity and my lack of grace.

I tell myself over and over again that having babies is not a zero sum game - there isn't some limited pool of them, so Jane having three...or nine children has no bearing whatsoever on the number of children I will have.

In my IF-addled mind, though, there is something subtly terrible and mocking when a couple flouts social convention and throws themselves on the other side of the average 2.2 kids statistic. I know logically that the following isn't true, but a primitive part of me sees 3+ kids as a flaunting of genetic wealth, as a kind of evolutionary and ecological selfishness.

"Our world is overpopulated, we don't know if we'll have enough water or gasoline to get us through the next few generations, but sure - go ahead and go over the replacement rate. Clearly two is not enough for you. Unless the third pregnancy was an accident, in which I already hate you for your untold amounts of luck and fertility." Something like that.

I am well aware that this isn't a nice way to think about this. That I'm taking someone else's deep personal joy and throwing my political and philosophical feelings on it, along with slathering a layer of infertility shit on top of it. I don't want to think like this, but I do.

But at least I know I will never say these thoughts out loud. That's why I have this blog. So I can exorcise these ugly thoughts and protect my happy and naive friends from them, and so that I can love their children - no matter how many of them they have - with a cleaner heart.

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.

No Deduction for 2010

Sorry I didn't post this week. Tax time around our household is huge nightmare because I do all my freelance work under a separate LLC, and we have a partnership interest in a clinic out of state, so we end up sending in something like 4 or 5 tax returns as well as a big ol' check every April. Which I try to think of as a good thing, because if we are sending in money that means we're making it.

Anyway, to continue in the vein of GlumBunny's census post, the IRS has so many lovely ways to prick at the infertile. The big one is the child deduction, and then you also have tax credits for adoption.

What burned me in particular this year was when we were trying to determine estimated taxes for 2010, and the question came up of whether or not we thought we could get a child deduction for 2010. The timing is pretty nefarious if you think about it. If the cut-off date for the child deduction is a birthday on December 31, then you generally need to conceive (premature births notwithstanding) before the last week of March/first week of April. Which means the 2WW ends squarely around the income tax deadline. Which is kind of what happened to me.

So no child deduction for 2010. Hope 2011 brings a different story. 

Cleaning the Closets...

After finishing up a major work project in February, I rewarded myself with a piece of furniture I've been hankering after for a while now - a big 10-drawer dresser to contain all the clothes that have started leaking out of a much smaller chest of drawers. I picked out a simple, sturdy, unfinished oak piece from a local furniture store a few weeks ago, spent last weekend finishing it with a beautiful golden tung oil, and we happily moved it into our bedroom on Friday.

Today, I started moving my clothes into it. I love organizing in general and started out having a fun time of it. But then little reminders and questions started creeping up into every decision I made:

• I haven't worn this shirt in forever, and it's a little big on me. Why don't I donate it? But wait, it's got a nice empire waist. Wouldn't it be great for early pregnancy? Oh yeah, that's why I keep holding on to it.
• Hmm...these skirts barely fit anymore. I should work out a little more to fit back into them. But what if I get pregnant? Surely I will never be able to fit into them post-partum, and I'll need the room for maternity clothes. So I'll throw them out. But wait, what if I don't get pregnant? Should I really throw these skirts out then? They were such a good find.
• Okay, now that I've emptied the old chest of drawers, maybe I should put some of DH's clothes in them, so he doesn't have to keep using those plastic Target drawers in the closet. But wait, didn't I plan on moving the old chest to the guest room so that we can put baby clothes in it when the time comes? Didn't we talk about putting a diaper changing station on it because it's the perfect height? So if I fill it up with DH's clothes, does that mean I've lost faith, or should I just buy the baby a whole bunch of brand new furniture when the time comes?

It all got to be too much for me, and Mr. Stick found me sitting in front of my brand new dresser with tears in my eyes. I hate that I can't make decisions around what clothes to keep and what to throw out. I hate that writing this has made me realized that I haven't done any major clothes shopping in the last eighteen months because I  keep hoping that I'll get pregnant and won't fit the things I am buying.

I know that these decisions are simple. I can always throw out clothes, buy new clothes, move DH's clothes out of the old chest, and/or buy new furniture. But IF is clouding it all in my head.

Each decision has been reduced to whether: "I'm hoping to get pregnant soon, so I should plan around that." or "Just keep on living like nothing is going to change."

Calling the game early so we can all go home.

Temps have been falling the last two days, and the big fat one-liner this morning pretty much drove the point home for me.

I usually wait at least a few more days longer to test - mostly because experience has taught me that taking a pregnancy test is a surefire means to bring on AF. But I didn't want to play the mind game of "What if this is just an implantation dip?" with myself like I do so many other cycles, so I nipped hope in the bud. I realize this is terribly negative of me, but it's a self-preservation thing. Prolonging the hope = prolonging the pain.

This way, I can have a good cry when AF shows up, dry the tears all the faster and gird myself against another showdown with the Clomid.

I've got at least a weekend full of distractions to keep some of the blackness at bay. There's a local festival going on with all sorts of arts and crafts and rides, plus a BBQ cookoff that DH gets to help judge. And tomorrow we're all going out to dinner with the hostess I met at the chocolate party a few weeks ago and her husband. I don't know if IF is going to come up with the husbands around, and I'm a little worried that it'll set me off on a sadness spree, but who better to condole and share a drink with, right?

CD 12 Update

Had my CD 12 ultrasound, and I guess it could've been worse. I got to be a human guinea pig for a 2nd-year resident who seriously needs to work on her wanding skills (hello retroflexed uterus!), but Dr. G. kept it from getting too out of hand. (What a weird little pun I just made there...)

So, I have a 17mm follie on my right ovary (which surprised me, because I've been feeling all the action on my left side), and my lining is at 6.8mm. It's an improvement from last cycle when it was 6.4mm, but not that much. You'd think it'd be better considering all the red raspberry leaf tea and pomegranate juice I've been consuming. Sigh.

Dr. G. made a comment about my body producing less estrogen for my uterine lining because I'm thin, but jeepers I'm not that thin! Maybe I'll take this as permission to go to a couple more chocolate parties and add real bacon to my diet. :) And he's reluctant to switch me to Femara because of a study in Canada showing potential cardiac/respiratory issues in babies conceived with it.

On the plus side, he's willing to give me another chance or two on Clomid before "graduating" on to injectibles. He seemed pretty sure that the Clomid would work.

I have to take a moment here and talk about how much I adore Dr. G. I find it really strange because the man is so confident he's practically cocky, and his bedside manner isn't at all warm and fuzzy. But I think that's just what I need - his confidences manages to steamroller a lot of my insecurities and "what-ifs," I like that there's no wishy-washy at all with him, and he's really direct and good about answering questions.  I get the impression that he finds a lot of my IF-angst to be a little humorous, which makes me feel like it might not be as serious as I dread it to be. Here's hoping!

Anyway, now comes the wait as I pull out the OPK's and watch for the surge...

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!

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?