Balance

I love the Boy, but he keeps saying, "I know this time it worked. I just feel it." In some circles, that's a pretty reasonable thing to say, but not to me.

I don't know how to have hope yet not feel so devastatingly disappointed each time I am not pregnant. I don't want to rob this entire process of joy and hope and optimism, but I am thinking I'd rather be pleasantly surprised than disappointed.

Unfortunately, while I can intellectualize hope out of the process, emotionally I can't actually kick the habit. Apparently I am a glutton for punishment.

The "other son"

So yesterday was Yom Kippur and so the Boy and I spent two days in Connecticut with his parents. I generally don't mind going up there, as I think his parents are generally lovely. But yesterday I had lots of free time to kill since there was no eating, and while I was wandering about, I counted 52 pictures of my brother-in-law, his wife, and their 2 boys (2 yo and 3 months). Just for the sake of full disclosure, this includes their iMac screen saver with 20 pics. But I am not exaggerating -- 52 pictures throughout the house.

I counted exactly 1 picture of their "other son" -- my Boy. It's from when he was 7. And my brother-in-law (his brother) is also in it. No wedding picture from last year, no graduation from high school, college or b-school. Not even the obligatory bar mitzvah photo. Nada.

And on the one hand I'm wondering why I care -- they appear to like me, we see them pretty often, they appear to like my Boy, etc. But on the other hand, it says to me "you aren't really important until you breed. You are just a vehicle to produce grandchildren. Until you reproduce, you are not even worth the cost of the frame."

If we don't have kids in a few years (jesus -- I will be pissed off if that's the case), do you think they'll eventually at least bust out a wedding photo?

In the meantime, I was thinking I could send them screen shots from the u/s of my ovaries -- I have so many of those I could even do a montage of my follicles over time. Maybe the HSG, too? That one is big enough to take up an entire wall.

Made it through

Our dinner party on Saturday was generally a success, although as predicted my friends spent 99% of the time discussing their 2 year old son. And they know we are not having much luck getting pregnant, but I guess... well -- I have no idea what goes through their heads, so I'm not going to guess.

While I made good on my promise not to run to my room crying, I did have to leap up and start manically doing dishes at one point. I think it was the "should we adopt a baby or get a dog?" from my friend's DH that really pushed me over the edge.

While I had my arms up to my elbows in soapy water scrubbing the hell out of a pot, here's what I imagined yelling at him:

- Are you fucking kidding?

- Do you really equate the two things?

- Do you really think that an adopted child is like a toy that you can acquire?

- At what point do you think this "mystery child" will figure out that they were only acquired to entertain your "real" son? How will that child actually feel? Do you care?

- How do you think that those of us who may use adoption to grow our families for real feel about this question?

- What kind of idiot really are you?

That's about as far as my imaginary rant got before the Boy brought in more dishes and told me to take a couple of deep breaths.

On the up side, turns out that rage is very useful for scrubbing pots. Kitchen was sparkling clean before we went to bed.

Coming out of hiding

I have found this entire IF thing pretty difficult to talk about with people, and since most of my close friends are either pregnant or have young children, I've been pretty much hiding out all summer long. But in the last two days, I'm slowly trying to come out of the cave -- I'm still shielding my eyes from the light a little bit, but I think I'm more out than in.

Item 1:
I called my best friend, who gave birth 10 days ago to her second child, a little girl. This is the same best friend who I have been completely hiding from for the past 3 months, since seeing her get closer to having a second baby just seemed too hard to bear. And we talked. We talked for hours and hours, actually, which was great. And I apologized for not being able to be more grown up about talking to her, and she told me I didn't need to apologize, and then it was all better.

Item 2:
The boy and I went out to dinner with another couple who had a 3 month old baby. They got pregnant -- catch this -- by accident. But it's not their fault they are just more fertile, right? It doesn't really make them bad people, does it? They didn't do it to make me sad, right?
Anyway, we went out, and we talked about the baby, and how their lives are changed, and I didn't poke my eyes out with a chopstick. I wanted to a couple of times, but I didn't, and that makes me feel pretty good.

Item 3:
Another friend of mine (who is also friends with the above 2 women) has been MIA all summer -- she's been really tough to reach and keeps cancelling plans. I had heard (via another friend) that she has been trying to get pregnant for well over a year now, and she's about to turn 40, so I jumped to the conclusion that she, too, was having IF issues. And I emailed her, told her I think I understood why she was hiding, and that I was happy to talk, if she wanted to, because this is super sucky, but even more sucky when you feel like you are the only person in the entire world who can't seem to get pregnant or stay that way.

So it turns out I was right, and she has been hiding in her very own cave across the river in Brooklyn. So the two of us cave dwellers are having dinner on Tuesday. I will pick somewhere with dim lighting to mimic the cave-like atmosphere we are so used to. I also suspect that at least one of us will cry a little bit, so lighting will help make our weepiness less noticeable.

We are having friends over for dinner tonight who have a young son, and who pretty much talk about only their young son. If I manage to not run into my bedroom and slam the door, I will call it a really banner week. Either way, I'm pretty proud of myself for this week and may deserve a second piece of the plum tart I just pulled from the oven.

Cha cha cha

I started going to an acupuncturist last week. As a little context, she's been highly recommended on a bunch of the NYC infertility boards, so I didn't just pick her out of the phonebook or anything.

I went for a couple of reasons -- (a) anything that will make this upcoming IVF cycle a success seems like a great investment of time and resources and (b) I have really really tight muscles in my lower back that are resistant to stretching and massage, so I'm not super comfortable and would like to sort this out asap.

(Note that when I say that they are not super responsive to stretching, I mean that since I started my new physical fitness regimen 2 weeks ago, they haven't magically improved. Not sure why -- I mean, shouldn't just walking into the gym fix everything?)

So yesterday I was on the table having needles placed on my legs, hips and behind (yeah -- it's about as sexy as it sounds -- once again the indignities of this process astound me) and the acupuncturist asked me "do you dance?" Now, she has a kind of thick Chinese accent, so I wasn't exactly sure what she said, so I just grunted "ummm..." in response, since I was also pretty focused on those aforementioned needles going into my rear.

This part, though, I was sure I heard..."Well then, you should do the cha cha every evening. It helps with circulation to your hips and your entire pelvic region and will make it better for the baby."

What?!?

The cha cha? That's the solution to all of my problems? Damn, I'll sign up for Dancing with the Stars or some other such bullshit if that's what I need to do to get pregnant.

I can only imagine the conversation with the Boy: "So, umm, sweetie... you know all those samples you gave for SA? Well, it turns out that we didn't really need those, and we didn't need the 10 pints of blood I gave for genetic and endocrinological testing. Nor did the entire free world need to peer between my legs. But enough of what we don't need. Here's what I need from you now. I need you to dance. Yes -- that's right -- dance. Specifically, the cha cha cha. No -- it can't be the foxtrot or salsa -- it has to be the cha cha cha. Well, umm, my acupuncturist said that's the best thing, and she has all kinds of pictures of new babies on her office wall, so I think she knows what she is talking about. Yeah, I know the videos and lessons will cost a bit, but, well, it's a lot cheaper than IVF, right? See, I knew that logic would be compelling. OK -- cool. Thanks."

Yeah -- I see it going just like that.

Frenemies

So I live in New York City. When we moved into this apartment, we thought about proximity to the park (there is a big dog in our family that likes to run around), public transportation, and other amenities and convenience. We didn't think about schools because kids were far down the road. (Alas, we didn't quite think it would be this far....)

Turns out, I live in the 10-block zone for the best public elementary school in all of New York City. How do I know this? I know this because one of my "friends" -- and here I will use quotes because I think that she may have crossed the line into "frenemy" category -- spent an hour going on and on about how lucky I was that I lived in school district X, and how that would save so much money on private school, at least during primary school, and how she really wishes that she and her husband had thought about that before buying a fancy big apartment across town, since now that they have a second child on the way it's starting to dawn on them how much money this will cost.

Since we were on the phone, she couldn't really see that my head was down on my desk, my eyes were closed, and I was just breathing deeply to stay calm. Because I don't really give a shit at this point that she wants to live in my school district or will have to pay for pre-K for her little girl. I'm spending almost that much money on IVF and assorted other treatments, so I'm frankly not all that sympathetic.

I'm also just pissed off. She knows we have been trying for a while to get pregnant -- in January we went out to lunch and talked about it, since she was trying for her second and was running around with her LH and FSH numbers in her iphone bitching about how bad they were. Apparently, not as bad as she thought, since three months later she told me that she was 11 weeks pregnant.

So she KNOWS what some of the stress is like, and she KNOWS I am still not pregnant, and yet she goes on and on and on about fucking schools. I don't need elementary schools right now -- right now, the nearby school and all of the moms that linger outside waiting for the bell to ring pushing strollers with their infant second children are more of an instrument of torture than a benefit.

All or nothing

Have you ever noticed how one lousy thing in the morning can throw off your entire world view?

Yesterday, I woke up tired and a little achy, and then took my dog out. By the end of his walk, I was convinced, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that all of my "dog park friends" (a species that is unique to big cities where you see a lot of the same dogs in the parks) really didn't like me after all and thought I was one of the crazy annoying people that we all collectively make fun of, and that they just waited for me to leave to make fun of me as well. I'm pretty sure I haven't been in junior high for a really long long time, but it felt just that lousy anyway.

Turns out I was wrong, and it's just my insecurities about everything rearing their ugly heads and making me all neurotic and anxious. Turns out that one of them broke through the "we are only friends here in the park and know each others' dogs' name, but not their human owners' name" and asked me to grab lunch later this week. Yeah!

Seriously, it felt like some sort of breakthrough. Because, yeah, I know I am kind of an anxiety-ridden nut right now, but it feels pretty good to be able to hide that and make new, non-pregnant, non-mom friends, because those are in pretty short supply right now.

So I am boxing up all of my fears that the cool kids don't like me, and putting them back on the shelf with my 8th grade yearbook, and looking forward to lunch later this week.

Well now that THAT's off my chest

Phew -- that was definitely a marathon rant. I really don't have that much else to share at this point, and I can't imagine I will always have that much to say. A few observations based on my day today:
- It's totally not a weenie move to bail out of a dinner when the pregnant women will outnumber the non-pregnant ones (e.g., me) by a ratio of more than 2:1.
- If your friend who is pregnant with her second child calls you to complain about how fat she feels this time around, it's totally OK to pretend that you have another call coming in.

New to the blogging thing

I'm new. To blogging, to be specific. So it's not entirely clear to me what I am supposed to do, but since I have been obsessively reading blogs for the last few months, I guess I can make this up as I go along.

Unfortunately, what I am not new to is trying to get pregnant. That's the part that is neither simple nor easy, and that's really what has drawn me to this whole blogging thing -- I need to get some stuff off of my chest, and this seems like the best way of doing it.

I'm not entirely sure what I hope to gain from doing this -- maybe to feel a little bit more a part of a community as opposed to alone, stranded on this bloody barren island. I've found that this whole TTC/ IF thing is the most lonely I have ever been, in part because I can't really figure out to whom to talk to about this.

Here's what's going on and why I am looking to the internet:

I'm 39. 39.5, actually, for those of you counting. And (Remember when you were little and were so excited about being 5 and a half? 6 and 3 quarters? I'm not that excited about the extra half now. Funny how that changes.) I have no kids, and have never even seen that elusive second line on the HPT. Sometimes I have tried 3-4 HPTs, but never seen that little line.

Since I take a long time to do anything, I just got married about a year ago -- even though we met almost 5 years ago, it never occurred to the Boy and I to hurry things along because this getting pregnant thing would be hard.

Getting married and planning the wedding was super fun, and so once that was done, we started our next project -- getting pregnant and planning for our family. Turns out that planning a wedding was easier. We've been TTC for 9 months, done 3 clomid cycles, and are going to jump into IVF later this month once the cycle starts again.

I know 8 months might not seem like that long, but it's pretty much eternity at my age, and our RE is worried that my fertility will fall off of a cliff in the near term, so onward we march through the wilds of ART.

I think that I would probably not have turned to this whole blogging thingy if I was busier -- right now, as mentioned above, I'm not really working -- made a choice to leave my job earlier this year, and am now kinda just hanging around.

Similarly, husband is not working. So we are both hanging out in our not-exactly-super-spacious NYC apartment. So yeah, I need something to do to keep me from going batty, and preferably something that doesn't cost money!

Other complications in our lives:
The Boy's father had lymphoma, but it's been in remission for over 2 years. Now it's back and chemo has started again. It's not a good thing, and causes a fair amount of stress.
My mom had breast cancer 16 years ago. It's back, too. Surgery is next week, so I am heading home to help out.
So we have two parents with cancer at the same time. It's beyond absurd.

So as a run down:
- both my husband and I are unemployed
- we each have a parent recently diagnosed with cancer
- try as we might, we are about to start IVF since I can't seem to get pregnant.

Seriously, it's no wonder I am looking for an outlet for all of this. Welcome to my blog!