I hate ants.

I’m not an overly religious person.  I grew up going to church – but I was a seasonal Christian.  My family went to church mainly in the Fall and Winter, because we had a lake house and spent nearly every weekend there in the Spring and Summer.  My dad’s theory was he could talk to God just as easily on a quiet lake alone in his fishing boat as he could in a room full of people praying at the same time.  I kind of think he had a point.

I have beliefs, some stronger than others.  And I pray, often not for days at a time, but I pray.   When I do pray, I seem to ask a lot of questions.  Why?  When?  What?  How?  Why?  Why?  Why?

I am very grateful for the friends that I have who are stronger in their faith than I am.  Sometimes talking to them gives me hope.  Makes me want to trust God more.  They always say, “Let go, and let God.”  When you’re TTC, that’s really hard to do.  Because aside from Mary, I don’t know of any other instances of immaculate conception.  So, I can only ‘let go’ so much in this journey.  And I can’t really “Let God” take care of bidness for me when it’s time for DH and I to adhere to the ovulation schedule.   You just can’t.

My friends mean well with their counsel.

Trust in God’s time.  Not your time.

Let go, and let God.

Sara waited 100 years before God gave her a baby.

As I cry to a close few friends about repeated miscarriages and feelings of loss, I know they mean well when they say all of those things.  I know they are saying it from the heart and for lack of anything else of comfort to say.  But sometimes, I just want to hear them say, “Damn.  That sucks.  I don’t understand it either.”

I stumbled on this great email today, and finally felt like someone else gets it.  The title caught my eye:  Please Don’t Give Me a Christian Answer.

Here’s an excerpt:

I love Jesus. I love God. I love His Truth. I love people.

But I don’t love packaged Christian answers. Those that tie everything up in a nice neat bow. And make life a little too tidy.

Because there just isn’t anything tidy about some things that happen in our broken world. The shooting that recently happened in Aurora, Colorado, is awful and sad and so incredibly evil.

And God help me if I think I’m going to make things better by thinking up a clever Christian saying to add to all the dialogue. God certainly doesn’t need people like me — with limited perspectives, limited understanding, and limited depth — trying to make sense of things that don’t make sense.

And when things are awful we should just say, “This is awful.” When things don’t make sense, we can’t shy away from just saying, “This doesn’t make sense.” Because there is a difference between a wrong word at the wrong time, and a right word at the right time.

Read the rest of her story to find out how “I hate ants” helped her cope with tragedy.

As I continue on this emotional TTC journey,  next time someone gives me a “Christian Answer” when I just need to kick the ground and grieve, I’m going to think, “I hate ants.”  And then give my friend a hug for trying.

A Surprising Cyber Sisterhood

“Married *coughcough-year-old* seeking a chick who is on the verge of pulling her hair out, has a tendency to POAS several times a day, and just wants to get pregnant already!” 

As women, we are well aware of the difficulties finding and keeping good friends as compared to men; and when you’re TTC it’s even more challenging. It’s a bummer, too; but, it’s not all that surprising – with gossip, cattiness, competition and envy.  Not surprising, though certainly disappointing.

But, have faith! Some of the best “eggs” are found where we’d least expect them!

Scrambled and I met online, in a faceless forum and states away from one another. At the time we met, we only knew we had one thing in common – we were feverishly trying to conceive without any luck and shared similar frustrations. With the click of a mouse and a quick “hey-how-ya-doin’?”, a friendship was born.

It was a fast-paced, whirlwind connection that led to this blog within a matter of days.  Yes, seriously.

Here’s a little peek into how it all got started:

Aug 28, 2012 – message board inbox

Hi there –

I just wanted to send you a private note and say hi.  Seems like you and I have very similar cycles and frustrations.  My hubby and I have been TTC number 2 since October 😦  Baby 1 was not nearly as tricky as this one has turned out to be. Hang in there, and good luck keeping your mind occupied 🙂

-Scrambled (S)

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Hey Scrambled! How have you been? I agree we definitely have some unfortunate similarities…boo!! I’ve been a little more relaxed this cycle, but I feel the crazies seeping in. Haha! I tried to put some faith in my acupuncturist to take the pressure off of myself, and I think that rationale worked here and there, but now I’m so anxious for a BFP (that sticks!!) the pressure is building again. The due date of my miscarriage would’ve been 10/28 and I’m praying I’m pregnant by then. I have several friends who successfully conceived when I did and they’re all due within a week of when I would have been. I imagine it will be challenging for me to get through that month without a baby on the way. None of them know about my situation bc I didn’t want to bring them down during such a celebratory time, ya know? Enough of my rambling! Your turn 🙂 …and thanks for reaching out to me! -SunnySide (SS)

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And then we started to click!  Our senses of humor were eerily similar, and we quickly filled for each other a void that no one else could fill.  Sympathy and empathy, swaddled in humility and humor.

SS: Look, if so many darn girls keep getting BFPs, and I mean that lovingly, why can’t we? 🙂 keep that positive energy running through your system! I need to go find a Chik Fil-A. I’m freakin starving! Ttys! 🙂

—-

S: LOVE me some CFA!  I feel sorry for people who don’t have CFA or Bojangles in their states.  Do you have Bojangles?

—-

SS: This may sound school girl crazy, but I love chatting with you!! writing is something I really love, regardless of the topic. Oh yeah, Bojangles is awesome too!! We’ve got em!

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S: Totally doesn’t sound crazy – it’s fun to chat with someone who can relate! I’m loving it!  😀  I have tons of girlfriends who have families and can support me, but they’re all done with their baby-making, and I get a lot of the “there-there, it’ll happen” conversations.  Bah.  😉 Bojangles = heaven.  They have THE best sweet tea.  I may have to get some on the way home.  Thanks a lot!  😉 Dude – you’re a writer?  I’m a writer!

—-

SS: We should co-author a TTC/ mom blog! Just throwing it out there 🙂 it would be entertaining, to us at least, haha!

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S: I’d be ALL ABOUT co-authoring a blog! For real.  I have a ton of funny anecdotes from my pregnancy with my son, and with TTC baby 2 for the past year.  And we have very similar experiences.   It would be fun to explore, at any rate… and it would at least occupy our crazy message board/chart stalker tendencies 🙂

—-

SS: So… sidebar:  My friend walked into my bathroom and asked why I had taken twenty pregnancy tests so early. They’re OPKs I forgot to throw away…whoops! This blog has me pumped! I’m wired right now. I need a Xanax. Or wine. Or both.

—-

S: I vote for both.  Drink til it’s pink!  haha!  Btw: it drives me bonkers when people fill their message board posts with all the icons for having sex. If I see another little yellow smiley humping another one, I will lose my shit.

Since so many of us feel the need to keep the TTC process private, it’s understandable why we turn to strangers, but why do some instantly feel compelled to share errrrrrthing about their experience (ie., I don’t need to know about the shape of their vajajay).

—-

As silly as these conversations seem here out of context, it’s the start of something pretty amazing.  We are so lucky to have found another good egg to help us deal with our journey.   It’s not every day you meet the yin to your yang.

We are so excited to have started this blog so soon after we “met” – because now we can share all of our shenanigans with you, and you can watch this sisterhood grow along with us (and hopefully, along with our bellies).

We’re looking forward to meeting a few more good eggs along the way! We need a dozen, right? 🙂

Two weeks til O. Two weeks til kNOw.

DH and I were big fans of the TV series “LOST”.   Fans of the show will easily recall the button in the hatch that required pressing every 108 minutes, lest the “unthinkable” happen.

Ironically, no one really knew what would happen if they didn’t press it.  They just feared what might happen.  So, they lived their lives in 108 minute increments, watching the minutes tick away until it was time to press the button again.

I can relate.  I live my life in two week increments.  Two weeks til O.  Two weeks til Know (or, Two Weeks til NO, as seems to be my case for the past 11 months).  I record my data daily – cervical fluid, temperatures, cervix position, OPK result, intercourse schedule – and tick off two weeks’ worth of days until ovulation.  Then I push the button, and wait.

While I wait,  I record my data daily – changes in cervical fluid, rise in temperatures, boob sensitivity – and tick off two weeks’ worth of days until it’s time to POAS.  When the answer is “no” – I push the button to reset my cycle, and wait.

I always wondered why no one just said, “Screw it.  I’m not pushing the button.”

In the hatch, there was a group of people on rotation to push the button.  Sawyer could go outside and harass Hurley to relieve some stress and take his mind off of the button for a couple of days, because Kate was on deck to push the button.  When Kate’s shift was over, she could go take a shower or garden with Sun to clear her head, because Locke was on button duty.  They all got a break from the uncertainty and stress of the button because they could check out for a while, knowing the button was under someone else’s control for a while.  They could walk away – because it didn’t stop anything.

But, if I don’t push the button, the TTC train comes to a complete and sudden stop

While DH is very supportive and obviously dealing with his own emotional TTC roller coaster, he can’t alleviate the stress and anxiety that comes with the button responsibility.  He can’t chart his fluids, or take his temperature and track his coverline to give me reprieve.  I can’t just check out on the process and check back in to see where we stand.

People say “relax” and “when you stop trying, it’ll happen” and other ridiculous, unproven theories.  When you’re battling fertility issues, and your body isn’t designed to crank out 4 babies in 5 years, you can’t stop.  You have to reset the button.  And it’s exhausting.

Two weeks til O.  Two Weeks til Know.

I see pregnant people.

When I bought my car, I picked a color that I loved and believed to be fairly uncommon.  The next day, the only cars I could see on the road where the same color as mine.

When I had my first (and only) child, we painfully poured over name books, web sites, even movie credits in search of the perfect name for our little guy.   A name that was unique, but not too trendy.  Cute, but one he could put on a resume later.  One we didn’t hear every day, and would allow him to go by his first name – not his first name and last initial, to distinguish him from the other 6 boys in his class with the same name.  The week we brought him home, our two favorite TV shows introduced characters by this name.  I took him to the pediatrician the next week and heard the nurse call for “oh – sorry, the other Junior*”.  Seriously? (*name changed)

It’s the same way when you’re TTC.   Lately, it seems I can’t turn a corner without running into someone’s belly.    Last week, I went to the four-stall bathroom on my hallway at work.  The first three stalls were occupied.  After finishing my bidness, I walked to the sink – passing three now empty stalls – only to find three pregnant women comparing due dates, belly sizes, gender predictions and gas pains.  I may or may not have left without washing my hands.

What’s that saying about being stranded at sea?  Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink.   For me it’s “Babies, Babies everywhere, and not one inside of me.”

It’s really easy to get caught up in what you don’t have, or what could have been.

If only I’d gotten pregnant when I planned, I’d be as far along as she is. 

If only I had gone off birth control sooner, I’d be her age when my baby was born. 

My plan was to have a sibling for my only child before he turned 4, why hasn’t this happened? 

Why did she get pregnant on the first try, when I’ve been trying for a year?

Why why why?

I wish I could say that I was more rational and understanding than that.  I’m not.  I cross my arms and storm in the opposite direction sometimes.  I intentionally avoid aisles at the grocery store if there’s a protruding belly button in sight.  I spend countless hours scanning web sites with my secret decoder ring in an effort to unlock the fertility code.  Occasionally, I’ll remind myself that instead of focusing on what isn’t making me happy, maybe I should focus on what is.

1. A loving husband who humors and (mostly) accepts my idiosyncrasies and borderline obsessive behaviors.
2. A beautiful and insanely funny rising 4-year old who brings more joy to my life than I ever imagined.
3. A supportive family who, although not currently aware of our struggles TTC, would be there in a minute with a casserole and a handmade quilt to make me feel better.
4. A network of friends (near and far) who laugh with me (and at me) and help me laugh at myself.
5. An amazing job at one of the best places to work in the world.

So, today, if only for a few minutes, I’m going to try to focus on the happiness I do have.  And I’m going to go help myself to the company-supplied snacks in the breakroom while I mull it over.  Don’t judge me if I give a little nudge to the pregnant woman hogging all the chocolate Teddy Grahams and blocking the Diet Coke dispenser with her belly.  Hey… I’m only human.

Are the Babies on Aisle Four or Six?

I have finally found something I cannot purchase at a store, garage sale, antique mall, flea market, or on Craigslist. Well, maybe not that last one.

I  cannot pre-order a custom-made kiddo for arrival at a time of my choosing.

I cannot put a little one on layaway.

And I cannot scan a barcode on a baby’s bum as I stroll out with my bullseye bag. Neither can you. We have to make them, from scratch, at home.  Betty Crocker has yet to come up with a recipe for this one.

If only infants were as easy to come by as pit pull puppies, queen mattress sets, or people who repair cracked iPhone screens. I see those bootleg signs all over town. “Adorable babies. Created uniquely with your genes. Call now!” I’m still searching for that one…

Am I the only one wishing that one-night-stand scare back in college came to fruition just to prove I’m actually fertile? …Crickets…Got it. I don’t either.

I’ve asked around to get a better feel for the baby market and it seems as though there’s a little secret after all.  Ladies, all we have to do is “Relax and it will happen. Just don’t think about it.” Maybe this is the key to life in general.

Let’s see how we can apply this steadfast rule.

1. Your job sucks. Don’t think about it.

2. You’re overweight. Just relax.

3. Your grandmother is terminally ill. It will happen.

4. Your dog is barking incessantly. Don’t think about it.

5. Your house is a pig stye. Just relax.

So there we have it girls! Discontinue your search for The Baby Outlet. Just relax and don’t think about anything. Be lazy, thoughtless, and dispassionate.  Instead of focusing on what matters most in your life, refocus your energy on finding ways to shut these insensitive, naive a**holes up!

Um, if you do happen to find a store offering newborns, please call me. I’ll meet you there!

She’ll get you, my pretty…

“Going so soon? I wouldn’t hear of it. Why my little party’s just beginning!”

As a child, I wondered why the Wicked Witch’s enormous hourglass was filled with red sand.   Now, I know.

Throughout adulthood, and most specifically during TTC, our monthly periods have become lovingly known as Aunt Flow.  Or, AF in message board land.

As we migrate from “Waiting to O” into our “Two Week Wait (TWW)”, our attitude towards Aunt Flow shifts slightly.  We shift from “I hope AF doesn’t decide to show up unannounced for a visit this weekend” to “I just know that witch is going to ruin my plans!”

When you’re TTC, AF doesn’t show up.  She circles you on her broomstick for days, plaguing you with ambiguous twinges and cramps, before dumping her hourglass of red all over your summer white pants.

Stupid witch.

Now You See It, Now You Don’t

My eyes hurt. I’m sitting perched on the edge of the seat, iPad on my lap, with a pen laced through my fingers. It appears as though I’m examining a prospectus, but in reality it’s just a row of pregnancy test strips.  One of them had a second line this morning. I swore it did. And I have pictures to prove it. Even the girls online spotted it.

 I pick up each one in turn and proceed to violate the tests in equal measure. I bend them, turn them over, rub them, and bring them uncomfortably close to my face.  Cough up that faint line you little b#+@]!  I click the flashlight icon on my phone for detailed observation. Bright. Brighter. Brightest. A pivot of the wrist proves fruitless. Are you kidding me right now? There is NOTHING there. Zip. Notta. BFN. Again.

I make my way to the kitchen, attempting to talk myself off a ledge. I’ll just pound a bunch of water and hold it until tomorrow morning. Fourteen hours. No big deal. And if I end up with a UTI, so be it. No pain, no gain…No line, no pregnancy…No pregnancy, no baby…Awesome. Another month off HCG-free urine down the pipes.

I race back to the bathroom. I forgot to try the X-ray camera feature.

It’s still early, I guess.

This is Supposed to be Fun?

Step right up, step right up. Women of all ages. Come inside, come inside.

Before you lies a fantastical fun house. Step right up!