Misery does not love company…

I am miserable today. My pill induced period is full of the normal menstrual cycle symptoms, the bloated, headachy, gross feeling, and overly emotional balls of fun. Seeing that it’s been 2 months since my last pill induced period I feel like Aunt Flo is trying to make up for missing time. Either way, that’s not the worst of it. I called the hospital at exactly 8 am this morning and yes they were ready to serve me (good to know they stick to their hours). The woman I spoke with was very nice but I know she has never had a hysteroscarypinggram, as she told me so herself. Here is an excerpt from our conversation:
Nice lady: “Okay so you have to schedule this between days 7-10 of your cycle…”
Me: “Yes, Monday would be day 9 is that possible?”
Nice Lady: “Monday…OH, not Monday, no, it will have to be Tuesday.”
My thoughts: GRRRRRRRRR. Monday is Labor Day so they don’t work either. I don’t know why I thought radiologists and outpatient hospital people worked on a holiday seeing they work in a place that is open 24/7, 365 days a year?! Now instead of being able to take advantage of being off from work on Monday I have to take time off Tuesday. Sucks because I am off Thursday-Monday too because we are going to NY for a family wedding. So I will be working one whole day next week and using vacation time to get a catheter stuck up my vajaja.
Me: “Tuesday, okay, well how long does the procedure take?”
My thoughts: Maybe I can schedule it for the afternoon so I don’t have to take a full day off.
Nice Lady: “It takes an hour. We only do the procedure at 8 am and you have to be here at 7:30.”
My thoughts: Nice lady is really starting to piss me off. I can’t pick the day OR the time. UGH.
Nice Lady: “Now it says here that this can be painful so to take Motrin the night before and the morning of. I think it hurts based on the notes but I don’t know, I ain’t ever had one.”
Me: “Okay.”
Nice Lady: “And there could be bleeding and cramping for a few days after..."
Me: “Okay”
My Thoughts: This is what I was dreading…wearing a pad and downing Motrin while having to do the YMCA at Cousin Matthew’s wedding.
Nice Lady: “And you can’t have any sex from now until the procedure.”
My thoughts: And I don’t really think I am going to want to have any after it either!
Nice Lady: “Oh but you can eat or drink whatever you want, there are no restrictions there.”
My thoughts: Whoopdidoo
So I requested the day off, my husband is going to take me, and now I have a week to think about what may or may not happen and how bad this could hurt. I know I sound bitter, cranky and like a big baby and that’s because I am all of those things. I don’t even want to be around myself so I can’t imagine having any company right about now.

Thank you for calling, but...

Wiped out. That's how I feel. Not only did I stay out way too late last night, I also drank a lot of wine (it was like college days except with high quality wine instead of a keg of Natural Light), and on top of that I woke up with my period. Normally when you are tyring to get knocked up the last thing you want to know is that Aunt Flo is in town, but for me it's a good thing. It means the Provera worked and now I can get the hysteroblahblahgram I have been eagerly anticipating.
I tried calling the hospital where this procedure is to take place in 7- 10 days but I got a recording that they were closed. I know this isn't the ER, I understand it's a scheduled, fairly common procedure, but I feel like someone should have been able to pick up and be on the other end of the line. To me this feels urgent and like something that I should be able to plan any day of the week. I am not trying to mail a package or take money out of my savings, and even banks and post offices are open on Saturdays! This feels urgent to me because I have to book on such specific days, I don't know a lot about what will happen and what (if anything) I have to do leading up to the procedure, and I am anxious about the whole thing. When you are anxious everything feels urgent and it just sucks that I got my period on a Sunday when no one can help me other than the lady with the recorded voice telling me to call back on Monday-Friday between 8:00-4:15 when someone can actually help me. That is defintely not what I wanted to hear today.

NOT funny

Good Morning blog reader (I think it's just you right now, Jess).
Last night my hubby and I met up with friends of ours we haven't seen in ages. They have two adorable and healthy children but it took many years and tears for them. So we talked a bit about the process, what they went through, what we are going through and about the suckiness of the whole situation. Some other friends showed up, a couple whom I had never met, and while we were on our second round of drinks they were to order their first. A few moments pass and we all have our drinks except for the female half of this new couple (let's call her, Betty) does not. Someone asks her where her drink is and she proclaims "I am not drinking...I am PREGNANT." Shoot me now. I really want to take a slice of the pizza sitting on the tray over my right shoulder and slap it in her face. While I am in the process of visualizing this act she comes back with, "Just kidding!!" and laughs hysterically. Ummmm, Betty, that was not funny. I am not laughing. I still want to hit her with the pizza. What is funny in an ironic sense, is on the drive up to the restaurant we all met at, I was thinking to myself that I would maybe not want a drink (shocking I know. It was just a momentary lapse of judgement), but realized I HAD to have one. Why? If I did not order a drink-drink and had say, a bubbly club soda instead everyone would think what? All together now...that I was pregnant! So yes, this infertility has now caused me to have a drinking problem too. Just kidding, I swear it's just coffee I have in my mug this morning...

Friends in no places...

When you are in this precarious place of infertility the last thing you want to hear is that so-in-so is pregnant. When you get the call of good news you can feel the baby envy creeping up your throat, as you say, "I am so happy for you!". Fast forward 9 months and you now find yourself openly weeping in Target over the cutest little baby outfits with ducks and bears on them. You are supposed to just be buying a baby gift and yet it somehow becomes about so much more. This just happened to me last week, the openly weeping. I rubbed my belly so the people staring at me would think I was just a hormonal pregnant woman. Things that shouldn't be a struggle become one so you find yourself becoming a little distant from your friends. And not just the mommy club friends either. While your single friends are doing tequila shots and having hot make out sessions with a the cute guy at the bar, you are doing shots of wheat grass, having sex in position #51 that will DEFINITELY get you pregnant on the exact day and hour your ovulation kit told you too. Your in between friends, who are married with no kids or older children and are status quo, even get a dose of the distance. I remember my friend Shan (names not protected because she is a fighter too) started becoming MIA more and more often. I didn't understand at the time. I mean I knew she was having a hard time getting pregnant but I didn't have a baby and even though I didn't know about my own fertility at that point, I don't think I said or asked anything annoying or insensitive (God, I hope not). But I get it now Shan, and I appreciate even more the times we did talk, so thanks for making time when you could in all this madness.
See the thing is, you can't relate to anyone. You can't even relate to yourself. You can't stand the feelings inside of you so with everyone's best interest in mind you become a bit of an introvert. You pull away as a means to protect yourself and others. You find solace in those moments through a support group, your dogs, sleep, a glass of wine, or maybe even an introspective online blog (no shame here).
With that being said I would like to here and now say, if I have or if I do insult anyone of my beloved friends in this blog, if I don't touch your pregnant belly, if I hand back your precious baby a little too quickly, if I don't feel like going out for drinks on a Friday night, or if I don't want to talk about me, please know I love you and it's not you...it's just that I got a bad case of the baby blues.

Say a little prayer for me...

I stopped at my church on the way home from work today. I wanted to submit a mass intention for my husband's deceased grandmother, as we are coming upon the 1 year anniversary of her passing (RIP Grandma). While I was there, my funny Irish priest peaked around the corner and saw it was me standing in the lobby. I know he's a priest but he checks me out; he checks all the ladies out. It's okay though because he is so funny and he sings cute little Irish songs, so that no one really minds. And it's better than him checking out, say the alter boys...I am just saying. Anyway, as he came around the corner and gave me a once over, I told him he had to start praying for me to get pregnant. He asked if I had been trying, and because I am apparently obsessed with the hysterladygaga (see yesterday's post) I have to get, I started to explain about the fallopian tube procedure. He looked at me with twisted lips and squinty eyes and started slowly backing away. Okay, check yourself Sheri, TMI. But I mean if a priest can hear about all the sins people commit, surely he can hear about my pregnancy woes, right? Anyway, he shook his head yes to let me know he would start praying for me and suddenly disappeared. I will probably end up with babies everywhere because he will pray exta hard just so he won't hear things he doesn't want to from me again.

Scary words with too many letters you can't pronounce

Okay so right now I am on Provera which is not such a scary word. You can spell it, say it and not have other people ask you if you have a lisp. Provera is what I am taking to jump start that little thing called a menstrual cycle so that once I do get it I can have, and here's the scary word with too many letters you can't pronounce...a hysterosalpingogram. Yup, that is a real word (one you don't want to hear), and you can Google it. What you will find is that it is a "X-ray test that examines the inside of uterus and fallopian tubes and the surrounding area". What it really is, is a word that when you try to speak it you sound like your mouth is numb and you are drunk as a skunk; and even more than that it's your tubes getting injected and shot up with dye at the hospital! I have not yet gotten to experience this joyous event, but I have a friend who did. She tried to soften the blow for me saying it 'wasn't that bad' but in some cases they do offer Valium. Oh and people have been known to scream because of the pain. UMMMMMMM, you mean I am awake for this??? Nurse, give me the whole tray of pills you have over there! So that's what I get to experience some time in the next 2-3 weeks. See I have to wait for the Provera to kick in which can take up to 1o days and then once my period starts I have to go for the hysterolosseygoosey between days 7-10 of my period. I tried to chart out when all of this will occur and came up with 2 scenarios, neither conducive to my life. The first opportunity for the hysterowubbiedubbbie would be just in time or right on the day of the engagement party for my mother which is being held at my house and thrown by me. The second scenario has me in NY for my husband's cousin's wedding. I am not about to entertain 30 people or do the Macarena with spotting and cramping (the little something you get to take with you from the hospital) so this may have to wait until October. As much as I don't want to have to do this, I would rather do it and get it over with.
I made the mistake of mentioning all of this to my friend Ruby (names changed to protect the fertile) who after 6 whole months of trying (said sarcastically) got knocked up and is currently preggers. Word to the wise, don't engage in conversation with your pregnant friend when you are going through hell to be in the state she is in. You will hate her, I promise. Just kidding, I love you Ruby if you ever read this and figure out it's you. But when Ruby said that her friend so-in-so had the same procedure and it was really fine and so-in-so got pregnant right after (and won Miss America to that same month, again sarcasm) and then brought the conversation to that fact that she was SO stressed about blah,blah, blah and desperately wanted a big fat drink...that's when I smiled. I proudly told her I would enjoy a wonderful glass of wine, two actually, just for her. She may have a bun in the oven but I have Chardonnay in my hand, and that's all us fertility challenged women have over you fertile little monsters.

I hate being sick

Being sick sucks for obvious reasons, i.e. upset stomach, aches and pains, exhaustion, can't go out and play...however it sucks even more when you are a married woman without a baby. Case in point last week I had a stomach flu and had to call out of work (which I never do) for a day. Next day in the office, right away someone has to ask, "You were sick? Are you pregnant?" Seriously? Seriously? You, my co-worker, who know nothing about me other than when my birthday is (because we all get together in a conference room and sing over cake for everyone celebrating that month-yyyaaaayyy) are going to go there? Why don't you just go ahead and ask for my OBGYN records while you are at it. What's even worse is after I answered with a flat "no" I got back, "Are you sure???" in a sing-songy voice. Ugh.

So if you are following from yesterday's posting, (which I think right now I am my only follower (HI ME!) I said I would start at the beginning. Let me give you the abridged version:

• I started to hear things I didn't want to hear at a young age...all the girls in middle school were waif thin and I was not. So I was the chubby girl ,because you could still see me when I turned sideways. I was called Twinke Thighs and other terms of endearment from neighborhood boys.
• Fast forward, gosh, 14 years, and I am the girl you couldn't see when I turned sideways.
• 5 years of misery, food restriction, and always being REALLY cold + 3 years of therapy = 1 semi normal person who loves pita chips again!
• In the meantime I have done some damage to my body which is at least partially to blame for my infertility (which answers the 'that' from yesterday's blog).

Because of the last bullet, even though I get mad at the insensitive things people say, I can almost understand it. They are so caught up in their own way of thinking, in their own mind, kinda how I was with my eating disorder, they can't see the damage they are causing. Sigh.

"Are you pregnant yet??" and other fine questions...

Wow, here I am. When I was in the confines of my car at 5:00 p.m. my mind was filled with witty and personal thoughts I felt compelled to share about my journey to pregnancy. Now as I sit here with my glass of red wine, the one perk to not yet being pregnant, I find myself a little nervous and unprepared. I feel like maybe I am at a job interview and you, the potential reader are my potential future career. But I will skip the interview logistics, raise my glass and cheers to the words we will share...which gets me to my point. The whole reason I started this blog is because I am a 33 year old woman trying to get pregnant and I am constantly bombarded with words...sayings...stories...and advice I don't want to hear. For example:

• "Don't stress, it will happen." Okay I won't stress about the fact that my body won't do what your body has done 2 times over with no problem. You look at your husband and get pregnant! But I didn't realize the key to getting pregnant was just not stressing about it. Thanks.
• "My sister is a nurse and never heard of that as a reason for not getting pregnant. "Oh, is your sister also God and all-knowing? I will divulge in later posts what the 'that' is.
• "Are you eating enough?" I am not pregnant yet so I am NOT supposed to be eating for two. This is my mother's favorite (she does have some reason based on my past, but again, I will address that later).
• "SOOOOOOO, anything new??" Ummm, yea, I bought a new mascara that I really like. Don't you think if I was pregnant I would tell you???

Those are just four of my favorites that I have recently heard. I guess I am guilty of stupid remarks on this too because when I was at my doctor's last Thursday and we were talking about the fact that I have to go to the hospital and get dye shot up my tubes (???), he asked if there was anything else. So I said "Well, I am really ready. I just want a baby." His response was exactly the kind of response that I would like to give sometimes... "Oh, okay let me write in my notes that you are serious now and see what we can do." Mind you I LOVE my doctor and considering he has had to deal with me and my neurosis's many times over, I took it as the joke that it was.

So anyway this blog is dedicated to the woman out there who have tried, are trying, or will try to get pregnant. It is dedicated to us, the stupid things people say to us, the scary tests, procedures and consultations we have to go through, and it's to us eventually sharing stories about our sweet little baby boys and girls. Now to start at the beginning...but first I need to go get more wine...

Sheri