FML

Snooki is pregnant. 

I rest my case.

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

Thankfully silent thoughts. That I blogged about.

I had a funny thought the other day.

I was at the grocery store, and a bunch of little kids -- maybe 8 years old -- were running amok, getting in my way and generally causing a disturbance.

And I thought to myself: If at some point I am told I just cannot have kids, at least then I can openly resent children in public. I mean, it seems like everywhere I go, people's kids are always misbehaving, screaming, crying, and basically completely out of control. I know plenty of people personally who somehow manage to keep their children in line, but the kids I encounter in public on a daily basis? Are OUT. Of FREAKING. CONTROL. 

And normally I think to myself, Oh, kids. They're just being kids. Because someday I might have a kid and that kid might misbehave and then some surly woman in the grocery store might give me the stink-eye.

But if I didn't have to "worry" about that possibility, I could basically think to myself: What a bunch of little asshole children. What is wrong with their parents? Why, when I was a child I would have been given what-for and never would have dreamed of doing such things.

I tend to remember myself as a model child, so I can't really speak to whether this is technically true, but I can say that my parents didn't tolerate any bull shit.

In any case, regardless of what happens on this fun little infertility journey I'm on, I doubt that I will ever be as hateful toward children as I was feeling that day. It's just that occasionally I see complete goddamn morons with children and it makes me insanely angry. I've said it before and I'll say it again: If I were a teenager, or a drug addict, or homeless, or had at some point received a lobotomy, I would likely have a whole brood of drooling little snot factories right now.

I'll stop whining now. 

The update with me is that there is no update. Today is Day 23 in my cycle. Tomorrow I will take a pregnancy test to make sure I am not pregnant, so that I can get on an airplane and go drink some margaritas in San Diego.

I'm headed to BlogHer to meet a few thousand other bloggers, mostly female as I understand it, and I'm really excited to be going. I hope to learn a lot and make some new friends.

Let me know if you're going so we can meet! If you're not going and you'd like to keep up with my San Diego shenanigans, follow me on Twitter!

Day 26

Every now and then my husband and I will be sitting around talking about this silly fertility thing and one of us (usually me, because I'm a masochist) says: What if we can't have kids?

Like, if the doctor tells us: You have no sperm. You have no uterus. You cannot naturally have a child.

My husband always says: Then I'm buying a car.

And I always say: I'll go on a trip to (fill in the blank. Usually Spain or Italy). Sometimes I say I'll get more cats. Sometimes I say I'll get a real job. Non-mommies are supposed to have real jobs, in offices. Right?

Then I'll usually ask: What about adoption? And we both kind of look at each other with a Meh look. Adoption is wonderful. Is adoption for us? We don't know until we've exhausted every option.

These conversations are all extraordinarily premature, but I like to think worst case scenario so I can prepare myself in case it really is the worst case scenario. For starters, we don't know what the problem is, and once we do know I imagine there will be options like medication, surgery, IUI, and IVF.

Which I don't even want to deal with. Part of me feels like if I can't conceive a kid completely naturally, that I don't even want to try medication and all the rest of it. Which is crazy talk, I know. But do you ever just get completely sick of even thinking about it? Sick, bitter, tired, etc.

Infertiles are always joking about their situations. Someone on Twitter the other day said something like: I should have been a teenage crack whore. The implication being that then getting pregnant would have been a piece of cake. 

I should have been Casey Anthony. I should have been the woman who lives behind me who cusses and screams at her kids every day. If I had cancer, I'd probably be able to get pregnant. If I were an alcoholic this would be a non-issue.

If you think about that stuff too long, you'll probably start feeling how I feel right now: nauseated and sad. No one ever said life was fair or easy, and actually, I specifically recall being told by various sources throughout my childhood that I wouldn't always get what I wanted and that would have to be the way things were, period.

Today is Day 26 and my period will probably show up some time in the next four days. I hurt my shoulder over the weekend and before I decided to take an ibuprofen, I remarked to my husband that pregnant women are not supposed to take ibuprofen. We agreed that I am not pregnant. No need to pee on a stick to confirm it; we just know it. I took the ibuprofen.

Day 3 of the next cycle, I'll finally be getting my blood taken. My husband will make a "donation." Part of me hopes for a diagnosis. Most of me thinks everything will come back normal. All of me is tired of thinking about it.