Such a Bother, Such a Blessing: The Two Faces of Trying to Conceive

I’m bothered and blessed. And at any given moment, I’m one or the other, but usually the former. Heck when we try and try and don’t get what we want, that’s usually the case, right? I do, however, feel fortunate for what I (we) have experienced. Let’s start with my bitching…shocking. I know 😉

We use a collection if emotionally fueled words and phrases to describe our paths toward conception and through infertility: stress, anxiety, sadness, hope, depression, joy, confusion, defeat, etc. A word I don’t hear that often is “bother,” yet it seems to gently infer many of the things we feel on a daily basis, especially when we’re in limbo somehow. I don’t want to downplay the more extreme emotions because they are all there. Believe me. Bother just seems to be a nice middle ground between content and pissed. 🙂

Since starting to try to conceive, I have been bothered by:
-The cost of pregnancy tests
-The fact that no one wants to talk about it
-Insincere comments
-On demand sex
-Checking CM, ugh
-Prenatal vitamins
-Taking my temperature everyday
-A lack of guarantee or promise
-People who brag about/lament BFPs in front of TTCers
-The number of times I’ve peed on my own hands
-Holding my legs in the air
-Cost of fertility treatments
-Innocent belly bumps while I’m shopping
-Ridiculous suggestions
-My inability to not stress so much
-The cost of acupuncture
-Message boards/forums
-How I feel “bothered” so easily, so often

I can’t just go on a tireless rant, but I wanted to share my “bother list” for a few reasons. 1) It makes me feel better. 2) I want to open up discussion. 3) Most of the things on the list are no big deal and I need to remind myself of that.

On the other hand, I’m extremely grateful for the lessons I’ve learned along the way. Here are a handful of my “blessings in disguise:”

-Enjoy the moment, it could change at any time
-Lean on people who understand (I appreciate you guys!!!)
-Google will put me in a crazy house, i.e. chill out on the research
-Nursery themes and color schemes don’t matter
-Loss and struggle lead to strength and appreciation
-Being in control is not everything, and loss of control doesn’t make me weak
-You can find great friends unexpectedly (I -Not all questions can be answered
-You never know what someone else may be going through, think twice
-Patience (a work in progress)
-I’m not actually alone in all of this
-Anticipation and hope are not foolish, they keep me going

I think back to that BFP in February and realize that baby would have been placed in my arms any day now. Sad, yes, but I’m not sure if I would be the mom I want to be had I not been through this shit storm. Honestly. I hate to admit that I needed to be taught a few lessons, grow up a little more, gain some perspective, and get a grip on reality, but it’s the truth. As frustrated as I am, I’ve learned quite a bit and hope to learn more as we move forward.

Please share a few “bothers” and a few lessons from your journey. Let’s get a little community going here 🙂

Thank you all for your support and contributions!

I love someecards 🙂

I think my oven’s broken.

Have you ever tried to bake a cake, and knew with 100% confidence that you followed the recipe to the letter, only to have it turn out like this:

That’s how I feel after my first follicle check.  Inexplicable failure.  I think my oven’s broken.

I did all of my shots to the letter.  While traveling and juggling a crazy schedule away from home.  I went for my follicle check after 4 days of Follistim and Menopur shots.

Left side:  EMPTY.  Zero.  Nada.

Right side:  one teeny tiny follicle hanging out sad and alone, because a MONSTER cyst had reappeared and was sucking all the meds for its own nourishment.  A cyst, mind you, that had just painfully been drained a week before.

Bastard.

I felt so defeated.  My doctor told me that this could go one of two ways, and it’s too soon to tell yet which way it will be.

1.  The cyst could just be a nuisance, and it may be too soon for the follicles to have developed (some people are slower developers than others); or,

2.  The cyst could be hogging all the meds and cannibalizing the follicle development.

If it’s number 2, we have to kill this cycle and wait another month before trying again.

My doctor has increased my dosage to see if he can stimulate the follicles over the next couple of days.  I’m going back on Saturday for an ultrasound to see if Cyrus the Cyst is still at the all-you-can-eat buffet, or if he’s spreading the love to his little follie friends.

I’m praying that the follies are getting their drink on right now, because I already feel so defeated.  If I have to kill this cycle and wait another month to even get started, well… that’ll just take the cake.

The shitty, floppy, inedible cake.  From my old, broken oven.

Wine, needles, hotel room floors and belly buttons

Would you believe that airport security was not nearly as interested in my infertility issues as I am?   Hrmph.  🙂

Now, I have my drug paraphernalia all sprawled out inside my hotel room fridge.  That might explain why the only housekeeping service I’ve received is having my bed made… the poor lady won’t even touch my bathroom counter or desk!

I geared up to do my first shot on Sunday night, and admittedly nearly got drunk before I did it.  Two beers and three glasses of red wine were my pre-cocktail cocktail.

I stumbled back to my room and mustered the courage to try this first shot alone in my hotel room after a cocktail hour and before a business dinner.  I had a 15-minute window before I had to be at another event.

I spread out my gear on the hotel room floor (surely, that’s the most sterile location, right?) and began to sweat.  Half from nerves, half from the wine.  I take one last gulp of wine and pinched up a hunk of belly fat and cringed with closed eyes at the thought of piercing my belly with this needle for the first time.  I exhaled and took a look at the injection site, and snorted in laughter at the reality of what I saw.

Here I was, chicken-shit to stick this little needle into my skin a mere 2 inches away from my  [formerly] pierced belly button.   A piercing that took a needle three times as long and twice as big in diameter, and went all the way through to the other side.  A needle that I paid good money to stick through my body – while sober – when I was fresh out of college.

When I realized how ridiculous this was, I pushed the wine glass aside and stuck that bitchass needle into my belly.

That’s not to say I didn’t have another glass of wine on Night 2 … let’s not get crazy.

 Two shots down, two to go til first ultrasound to check follicles.