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Posts Tagged ‘infertility’

Last night we got a call from Delbert (he’s our brother from another mother or bro-a-ma).  His 15 yr old stepdaughter is pregnant. 

 

I won’t say that it didn’t hit me hard.  I know it’s nothing to be jealous of, and frankly, M.’s aunt’s pregnancy hit me much harder.  But I don’t think I have to worry about that now.

 

A couple of posts ago, I was telling ya’ll about crying over frogs, and trying not to cry when it seems like everyone around you is getting pregnant but you.  M. read that post, and that night when we got into bed he hugged me and said, “You had a rough night last night.”  At first, I thought he’d just noticed how I’d cried myself to sleep two feet away from him, but then he told me how he’d read about it on the blog.  He also hadn’t noticed the silent tears spilling down my cheeks when I was writing that blog post even though he was on the sofa facing me just seven feet away.  I didn’t say anything, and he went on to play a game with me.  Maybe ya’ll can play too.  It’s called What Would You Give Up?  Would you give up television for a baby?  Would you give up the internet for a baby?  To each of his questions, I answered yes (I paused and thought about it…I didn’t go with a knee jerk reaction because I wanted to be honest).  How I wish I hadn’t joined in the game, but I had to ask the same questions he had.  No, he wouldn’t give up television or the internet (not even for a month…he says it’s because he doesn’t get enough time with them now).  Maybe it was the Clomid talking, but I couldn’t help but think of all the sticks and tests and general crap I had been through.  So, I asked him, “What would you do?”  He basically told me that he would continue doing what he was already doing (i.e. wearing boxers and screwing me).  No, he wouldn’t take Clomid.  No, he doesn’t want to go to any doctors (actually he flat out refused loudly).  No, he doesn’t want to give any samples or have anyone look down there or go through any testing or anything that might be unpleasant or inconvenient. 

 

I’ve thought about nothing else since that night.  M. tends to be flip and/or clueless most of the time.  At least, that’s how I’ve chosen to view what he says about most things.  He’s always had to have his hand held or be forced into things like starting school, getting a drivers license, staying in the Army reserves to work toward his pension, etc.  It’s not so easy to ignore his protests this time.  The other times I stood behind him poking and prodding him because if I hadn’t we’d have already been divorced (my school money along with his school GI Bill and Army pay is what pays our bills and mine is much smaller than his…but the truth is if we’d been millionares I would still have wanted him to do those things). It’s not that he didn’t want the end result of these things; he just didn’t seem to want to step outside his comfort zone to get them.  Maybe what he thought he was saying that night was something like, “We’re fine with just us.”  But all I heard was, “You’re on your own; finish it yourself.” 

 

I DEFINITELY do not want to force him to have kids.  It’s not like I’ve dragged him kicking and screaming into trying for a baby.  He had told me many times of his fantasies of coming home to me and our little girl (both before and after we married).  He spoke of it nearly every time he called from Iraq.  He was thrilled to call his mother a couple of months after he came home and tell her we were trying.  That seems to be where his support ended.  As I have said many times, I had given up on the dream of having a child before M.  With my ex, I had been prepared to live childless (he emphatically didn’t want more children…he wanted to be selfish…his words not mine).  M. had made me willing to hope again.  This isn’t the first check M.’s given me that’s bounced (Infidelity).  Each time I’ve battled back and thought it all out and found a way to go on (I’ve put up with more than even my dearest loved ones know about including Ginger and Tina…I’ve been told so many times that I should leave him and Tina’s always the first to say that I’ve got a job with her…but I’ve stuck it out because I do believe in keeping my marriage together).  For better or worse, right?  But now… 

 

We talked this morning.  When I mentioned my ex and wanting to be with him even if it meant not having kids, M. admitted that he didn’t understand why I couldn’t go on in our marriage as it is.  Maybe I should.  Maybe it’s time to give up and take what’s there even if it’s not what I want it to be.  Maybe I need new eyes…mine are blurry anyhow…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Update 2

If you’ve looked at your comments you’ve noticed that I commented on your blog, but I didn’t comment here.  That’s because I felt a bit better yesterday after talking to Ginger for a while, but I didn’t really want to look at my blog again.  If you do that, it tends to just stick in your head, but I might as well have.

 

Late last night, my sister, Tina, told me the latest news on my cousin Christa (she’s a bit of a welfare queen with her 4 yr. old Christian, and barely gets off the couch).  Christa has been dating a guy her mother set her up with.  He’s got a job and an erectile dysfunction!  However, they did manage to have sex ONE TIME.  Can you see where this is going?  Yep, she’s been throwing up every morning and suspects that she is knocked up.  Yay.  She hasn’t tested yet, but the news should come within the next couple of weeks (she’s the one that did negative home tests 3 times and had a full period before a hospital test showed she was pregnant with Christian).

 

Then Auntie F came to visit.  Three days early.  I guess that adds up since she was three days late last time. 

 

But, I’m actually feeling better.  Monthly disappointment complete and now I can move on to the hope!  Yay!  And a genuine “Yay!” at that!  It’s odd how you start to get used to it. 

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There are times when the multiverse just seems to be grinding its Nazi boot heel into my nose, and last night was one of those.  I’m sick.  I’m sick of two years of hope and disappointment in a cycle that’s almost as regular as my monthly visitor (I lie…the disappointment is more dependable than that).  I’ve been teary for days as PMS begins to dawn, but last night everything around me seemed to be conspiring.  I know Marie feels the same way because I too was trying not to cry last night when I read her blog.  And the good Doctor didn’t make me feel any better with news of her work situation pregnancy (let’s not sugar coat it…some people shouldn’t have children…and they always seem to be first in line to get them right beside backstabbing whores).  Then my MIL put the cherry on the sundae.  M.’s uncle and his wife, Nora, are pregnant with their fourth child (one 3yrs and the other two are 10 yrs & 12 yrs).  All of this despite the fact that Nora was on birth control and they weren’t even trying and she’s older than me.  She followed that bit of lovely with, ‘When am I getting a grandchild???’  It’s been TWO YEARS.  You’d think she’d stop asking by now.  It’s not like we haven’t been trying.

 

Even my dreams are taking pot shots at me.  They woke me at 5am with images of my girlfriend (the one that got fertility treatments from the Army and has a little girl now…actually she hasn’t stopped asking either…it’s always the first question from her or Rachael…are you pregnant? if I were don’t you think I’d be shouting it from the freakin’ rooftops?) hugging me as I showed her not one but two double-lined tests.  I know a big part of that dream is because she’s supposed to visit in September, and I’m so not looking forward to it (for a variety of reasons…our last meeting was awkward though I tried to prevent it from being that way).  But the dream and its dangling hope completely pissed me off.  So, I got up and took a pregnancy test that I could have read blindfolded (even though it’s at least 4 days before I should even bother to test) because I wanted to get the disappointment over with.  Sore nips?  Check.  Unusual acid reflux? Check.  Overly emotional?  Check.  Negative pregnancy test?  Check.  All that’s left is to wait those 4 or 5 days out for Auntie F(u). 

 

I am so tired.  I’m just so damned tired of this treadmill.  I made a commitment to finish out the Clomid before stopping.  And, I’ve got 3 months of the drugs left if I don’t up the dosage (I did 100mg this month, and I can tell the difference in my hormone levels with far more side effects showing up…I think 100mg is my limit).  I know that it’s only been two cycles, but I was tired before this last hope carrot dangled before me.  Stop the ride.  I want off.  Though, even as I say that, I know I won’t stop.  It’s like a sick addiction, and I’m nauseous just thinking of it.

 

I went through this already.  I grieved for months.  I let go of the notion of fuzzy blankets and soft warm baby skin.  I stopped thinking “when I”.  It’s not fair to have to do that twice in one lifetime.  Two seems to be my unlucky number (ironic that it’s exactly the number of people in a marriage).  Enough already.

 

I’d give anything to be Tori Spelling.  There’s a phrase I never thought would come out of my mouth.  But it’s true.  Where are the psychics when you need them?  Maybe it’s time to reexamine my astrology charts.

 

 

 

I’m going to go and try to enjoy myself, and work my way out of this funk.  What better way to do that than to shave Pascal’s balls with Dave’s beard trimmer? 

 

 

 

 

UPDATE:  After I wrote this, I went to do some laundry.  And, what did I discover, but a tiny tropical tree frog lost in my mess of a laundry room.  Frogs have always been good luck for me (I even managed to find them in a cul de sac living in a second floor apartment and at another house I had a bull frog even though I was 1/2 a mile from water), but I was pretty despondent.  After I had caught him and taken him out to the porch, I walked back to the kitchen sink to wash up, and said aloud, “If you really wanted to give me a sign, it would rain.”  It hasn’t rained here in nearly a month and even the established plants are having a hard time.  I made some brunch, and decided to take it outside to check on the frog (he refused to leave the porch where I’d left him…actually, I almost couldn’t get him off me!).  I had no sooner opened the door than tiny little droplets began to fall through the brilliant sunshine and they still are.  How do you not cry?

 

 

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 At least they do when you have cramps, and need a serious chocolate/sugar high.   I was seriously not in the mood for last night’s movie.  I livened up after dying Tina’s hair jet black and wandering in Walmart looking at the funky new bags they are getting in for spring (a couple were ok, but most of its Japanese schoolgirl and I just can’t even begin to pull that off).  But I should never ever doubt the Universe.   

In a place covered in 20-somethings and babies, I met someone who was still trying!  Rachel’s neighbor and I got to talking and found out we were almost in the same boat.  She’s only 30, but she’s been trying for a little longer than we have.  I couldn’t believe Rachel had never mentioned that, but it suddenly became clear as we were all talking that she considers it no big deal.  Admittedly, that kind of irked me and being PMS riddled I let it show just a tad by half-joking that these 20yr old with eggs coming out their ears never worry about this stuff.  Thankfully, she took it ok.  As she repeated her advice to always try 14 days after your period, I was imagining strangling her slowly.  (If I had done that for the past year, I would have hit the right time maybe once.)  Then she started saying how our husbands should only drink dark-colored colas because she saw something on the news.  About this time, the mental strangling made her eye pop out (just one eye…cuz I like her and all).  But at least, I met someone to commiserate with a bit though I’m not sure how hard her neighbor has been trying because they hadn’t even used an ovulation kit (she had been on birth control for 10yrs and figured it was still working its way out of her system after over a year).  I encouraged her to head down to the hospital because (1) it’s free for them and (2) another friend of mine was told by the Army docs she’d never conceive and the Army sent her for fertility treatments for free (now she’s about to have her baby girl).  That also irked me a little.  I still wish I had dragged M. in for a fertility check up before we got out of the Army and lost our medical coverage.  At the time, we had only tried for 2 mos. and knowing doctors they’d have patted us on the head and sent us packing.  But if it were available to us, I’d be knocking their door down right now! 

At any rate, the movie night was just what I needed.  They decided to do a Heath Ledger homage and watch Casanova (couldn’t find a copy of 10 Things I Hate About You).  I completely forgot Sienna Miller was the female lead in that; she should definitely consider keeping that rusty light brown hair color.  It was a very well-crafted movie that you could easily imagine as having been a Shakespearean play.  They hadn’t seen the Soup, and I told them about Joel’s quick memorial to Heath which was awesome.   

I feel a lot better today.  Brownies do fix everything.  Hallelujah!  And I still have hope for the Feng Shui (I only did it 2 days before fertility time…maybe it’s marinated enough now).  Also, apparently I can borrow a uterus from India for about $6K if we end up having to wait a couple of years for the big bucks to roll in.  Plus, I’m really appreciating all of you.  It’s quite amazing to me that anyone would listen to me ramble.  Thanks girls! 

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Wow, I can’t believe that I haven’t posted in almost a week.  Life hasn’t exactly been pleasant, but my school has assured me that by the 26th all will be well.

Since I’m living in denial at the moment, I’ve been alternately moping (aka lurking online especially at Etsy) and trying to find things to do around the house that cost nothing.  Wednesday night M. was getting ready for school, and I was mulling over all the things I could do once things were straightened back out.   

On the short list was redecorating the bedroom (seen in M.’s pic on the About Me page).  The dark, Arabian Nights meets Vampire the Masquerade theme was great at the apartment, but in the GT (ghetto trailer) it made the room really dark which is good if you like to sleep in (and M. does).  But it just felt wrong.  Being a hillbilly by birth (eastern KY), I am very superstitious and a complete believer in Feng Shui (Feng Shui Hillbilly what a great country/karaoke band…I loved their single “Karaoke Pokey”).  Many moons ago (before M.), I had Feng Shui’d the trailer and it hadn’t occurred to me to change any of it.  Once I had started thinking about redecorating, an idea popped into my head, ‘Is there any way to increase your chances of getting pregnant with Feng Shui?’  To my surprise, I found some articles online that insisted, “Yes, it is possible.”  [I’ve listed the links to the articles below.]   

M. scoffed.  He does that a lot.  It seems to be a basic part of his DNA. 

I, however, will take any advice at this point (if you’ve got tips send ‘em my way ladies!).  So far the only thing I haven’t done is stand on my head after sex and chant the Third Reich’s favorite poems (I always sucked at that…the standing on my head part…ok, the poetry too).  And according to the Feng Shui articles, our bedroom could not have been less conducive to baby making than…well…someone standing there reciting poems about what a wonderful fella that Hitler guy was while the bow-chicka-bow-wow went down. EEEWWW.  The bed was opposite its ideal position.  The deep, Valentino red (Walmart Colorplace paint) was burning up all the chi.  M. was sleeping in the wrong spot.  And, although the room was designed for marital passions (and worked in that regard thank you very much), it was not designed with a family focus.   

Still M. sat staring at the tv and scoffing intermittently.  Little did he know (and really, by now he should know!) that a few feet away I was figuring out if I had any green paint or if I’d have to settle for the Orange Whip (which is actually a yellow-based cream color from Walmart) that’s on our ceilings.   

Oh how I hoped there would be some green.  I despise cream colored rooms.  The only way they look right to me is when the trim is painted in pure white or another high contrast trim color such as black.  Then the cream looks deliberate.  Otherwise, it just looks like rental properties.  Yuck.   

Uh…Ignore unintentional ranting due to military life flashback. 

Anyhow, M. woke me and Pas up at 6am on Thursday, and within an hour, he was gone and I had procured a nearly full gallon of white paint and a quart of Peapod (yeah…Walmart again…I know I am the downfall of small town life).  When M. returned at 1pm, I had just put the finishing touches on the second coat of the mint green paint (with a soft, dulled, country look…not counting the primer coat…and all thanks to a well-placed box fan).   

He almost fainted.  Did I mention that M. hates green?  ::evil snickering::    Feng Shui Fertility Links- 

About.com’s page on Feng Shui tips/cures for fertility

The Red Lotus Letter’s article “Fertility Feng Shui”

Another more in-depth article at Lending Expo

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I saw this blog from Domestic Bliss.  It’s so nice when people remember that two is still a family.   The first year M. and I were married he was in Iraq.  We had gotten married in a hurry, and I think most of my family expected me to have a bun in the oven.  When I wasn’t preggers, nobody said anything.  Last year, M. had only been home for a couple of months and practically everyone’s eyes were alight with hopes of a baby in the New Year.  That hope has come and gone.  And this year was really very hard because of Pascal.   See, I have “one of those aunts” that never had children and lavishes all of her love on her dogs.  And in everyone else’s mind, Pascal equals giving up on having kids.  After a year, it’s not happening for us, and since we can’t afford medical intervention, all we can do is try some OTC remedies, keep hitting homers, and hope.  It’s incredibly hard to keep the light and easy “it happens when it happens” attitude when you’re getting all these disappointed looks. Not long after we were married, as M. was getting ready to leave for Iraq, he said something about wishing we already had a family.  I told him that he and I were a family the minute we said “I do.”  I just wish everyone else felt that we’re complete the way we are.  L  

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