Second guesses

Because I am not above gloating, I just want to say I told you so. I told you Snooki was pregnant. You cried foul, and now I'm saying How you like me now? 

The key to determining whether a celebrity is pregnant is you have to ask yourself: Self, does anyone in their right mind give a shit about this person? If the answer is No, then that person is pregnant. If the answer is Yes, then 50% of the time, that person is pregnant. If the person is gay, subtract 20 percent. If the person is unmarried, add 20 percent. If the person is over age 35, chances are 90 percent.

I'm glad we had this talk.

Now, FYI, Uma Thurman is pregnant. She is 41. This will be her third child. More power to her.

The baby thing is inescapable. There's no use in trying to block it out; it's ever-present. Avoiding baby-related things is futile -- everyone who hasn't been in your situation will never understand why you feel the way you do, and they will think you are 1) An asshole for trying to avoid baby-related things and 2) Self-centered.

It's best not to admit that baby-related things make you feel like you might scream uncontrollably. They won't understand.

They might think they do, but they don't and can't, and it's not their fault. The best of friends who have never been through this don't get it, but at least they accept you for the crazy person you've become and they are well-stocked with wine.

I wonder: Maybe I am not supposed to have kids. Maybe I just want kids because everyone else has kids. Maybe I just want kids because I want to give my parents and my father-in-law grandkids. Maybe I just want kids because my husband wants to be a father. Maybe I would be an unfit mother. Maybe this is natural selection or evolution or the Earth's way of saying please stop overpopulating.

I wonder: Maybe I only care because I think I am supposed to care.

But then it wouldn't hurt so bad.

That whole setting myself up for disappointment thing

Well, it didn't happen this cycle, even though I had some kind of ridiculous faith that it would. It's a tad bit worrisome. People who miscarry are most fertile in the three months following a miscarriage, and I'm on month 4. Yarrrrgggggh.

By the way, Drew Barrymore is pregnant. You're welcome. Also, so is every-fucking-body else, and their best friends and their dogs and cats.

Pregnancy's for the birds, anyway, don't you think? I've been hearing tons of pregnancy horror stories lately. I heard three late-term miscarriage (technically stillbirths I guess) stories recently. I mean, these are people who know people that I know. The degree of separation is much too small for my comfort. 

You want to think that if you can just make it through the first trimester unscathed, you're good. But that's not necessarily the case. Which is terrifying.

Anyway, there are good stories out there, too. Really good stories that aren't necessarily mine to tell, but fall within the miracle realm. Those kinds of stories make me really happy. They make me want to keep trying.

A little magic

If all the ladies I know in real life who wanted to be pregnant at this moment were suddenly pregnant, there would be around eight of us.

It astounds me that I personally know this many people who have tried for years to get pregnant, with limited success. I say "limited" because a couple of us have miscarried, which seems to imply the ability to at least become pregnant. Some of us have had surgery, some of us are taking weird medications, some of us have undergone IVF, some of us have adopted, and some of us have given up. Our physiological issues run the gamut, and some of us are not sure what exactly our physiological issues are; we just know whatever we've been trying, it ain't working.

Just recently I began feeling that old feeling I used to have. The opposite of hopelessness. A quasi-confidence that this will work out for most of us. I started to fantasize about how it would be if myself and my fertility-challenged friends all conceived at the same time. We'd be pregnancy buddies, and then mommies together, and what could be more perfect than a triumph like that?

These are dangerous thoughts. Hopeful thoughts usually lead to disappointment somewhere around Day 30 of my cycles. I'm not sure if I should try not to be hopeful. Actually, I'm not sure if I can quell it.

I suspect part of the reason for my new hope is my niece, Ava, who's 9 weeks old today. I've been taking care of her a few days a week while my sister works, and unsurprisingly, I have grown attached. I read a book that said you should talk to your baby. About anything and everything. So I talk quietly to her, and I tell her about everything. I tell her about her uncle, and her grandparents, and her mommy and daddy, and I tell her about my cats and how some day I plan to give her a cousin. And I'll be damned if that kid doesn't smile. She seems to enjoy being spoken to, and it usually lulls her to sleep. She's successfully removed a chunk of my heart and she keeps it with her, wherever she is.

Ava has renewed my hope; it's pretty certain. If a miracle like her is possible, then I suppose just about anything can happen.

What I'm Keeping

For the past few weeks I have eaten like crap, drank copious amounts of Diet Pepsi and wine, not taken a single vitamin, and sung "pregnant women are smug" in my head every time I have encountered into someone with an obviously functioning reproductive system. I have basically wallowed in my infertility by setting fire to all of the work I had done trying to "fix" it.

But, now, it's probably time to move on. After all, just because I'm infertile doesn't mean I want to die young. Or fat. Or angry.

I am re-evaluating all of the things I was doing in the name of trying to get pregnant, and deciding what I want to keep in the name of having a healthier, and happier life. I can tell you right now though, all of the supplements are definitely not the "keeper" list. Neither is visualizing my uterus -- f it doesn't want to co-operate with me, the less I want to think about it. Oh, and the only sticks I am peeing on are the ones I will have to when camping.

I am going to recommit to healthier eating, especially cutting down on carbs in favor of protein and vegetables. I find when I do that I am not as hungry, and I feel better. So, while habit will tell me to reach for a bagel, it will now have to deal with the fact I will go for yogurt and fruit instead. And I am once again cutting back on wine and Diet Pepsi. Actually, in the case of the Pepsi I am attempting to cut it out again. I've read too much about other health effects to not feel like I'm drinking battery acid every time I pop open a can.

I am still torn on whether or not to continue with the acupuncture. On one hand, I really love it, and found it to be the high point of all of my fertility trials. On the other hand, the woman I was seeing is A) expensive, and 2) specializes in fertility. If I want to continue with it I need to find someone cheaper, who every time I see her isn't going to remind me of my rotten eggs. Maybe someone who specializes in weight loss...

So, that's my plan for now. Maybe next month I will try to stop singing the "smug" song too, but for right now, I'm holding on to that tune. I'l work on the not dying angry stuff later...

FML

Snooki is pregnant. 

I rest my case.

Where's a vat of tequila when you need one?