a new drug

So I asked my doctor for progesterone and ... she prescribed it! Wonders will never cease when it comes to Dr. C. Why in the world I couldn't get a fertility specialist to test me for progesterone, I will never understand. Oh wait, I do: it's all about the money.

I'll be taking crinone gel. Please tell me you've heard wonderful things about this stuff and any tips/tricks you know when it comes to using it.

Meanwhile the battle of the bulge continues and I've embarked on the Paleo Diet. I know -- so obnoxious. It's one of the most restrictive diets I've been on, since it doesn't allow most dairy, legumes, or any grains. But after a lot of reading, I believe there is actually a significant amount of scientific evidence that backs up this way of eating.

And, there's also a butt-ton of evidence that the American government can't be trusted when it comes to what we should eat. Their food recommendations are always going to be tainted by the whispers of food lobbyists, who need us to keep eating corn syrup and getting cancer so they can make a lot of money.

Aside from all that, I'm just trying to relax. As the infertiles are constantly commanded to do. I should probably stop reading blogs, in that case. Today I read a blog written by an apparently fertile woman who was telling the quaint and adorable story of how she found out she was pregnant. This happens frequently. I read a blogger when she's single. Then I read about her wedding plans. And then I know it's coming ... she gets pregnant. Life keeps chugging along for some and stalls for others.

And then I read another blog by an infertile who finally had a kid after three IVFs, and her message of the day was basically: Don't sit on your hands. Make this happen for yourself. It's not how you imagined it was going to be, but you're going to have to accept that and start getting pushy with your doctors if you want this to happen.

It really rang true with me, since I do feel like I've sat on my hands quite a bit, waiting for a miracle. Thankfully, I started facing reality after the last miscarriage. Hence the battery of tests, and now the progesterone. I really only plan to give progesterone one or two cycles before I move on to something with a little more oomph. Time only moves forward and it's time to un-stall this process.

meh

It's Day 15 and I've just reached my peak fertile hurry-up-and-bone day.

Yep. God only knows what all is happening up in my Lady Parts, but we certainly have a surge of luteinizing hormone, and that's something, at least. Our new insurance kicks in about a week and a half from now, and then I suppose I can go harass some more doctors about my defunct vagina.

Meanwhile, a number of irritating things are happening. Nothing major, just minor annoyances that add up to make me feel bitchy. I'm sorry this isn't one of those uplifting infertility blogs where the girl just keeps plugging away optimistically until her vagina is like, FINE BITCH, you can have a baby.

Nope. It's not. Because I let things get to me. Let's list them! All the things! Ok, here we go.

- Weight loss. Dudes. Losing weight is hard. I've been on this diet that's making me a little stabby. You eat a combination of lean protein and complex carbs SIX TIMES A DAY. Planning for meals on this diet is stressful. And I am not especially enjoying the food. Meh.

- One of my facebook friends who announced her pregnancy at the same time I was miscarrying this last pregnancy. Normally I find her funny and awesome, but now I am inexplicably irritated by her. Today she said she is going to Disneyland and will be 25 weeks pregnant at the time and asked what shoes she should wear. I don't think anyone is going to have anything particularly insightful to say to her about this. You'll be pregnant. Wear comfortable shoes, for godssakes.

- Pregnitude. Really, Pregnitude? Ya couldn't come up with a better name than Pregnitude? As if being infertile weren't already demeaning enough, companies come up with the most irritating names for their products. That said, I've just ordered a box of Pregnitude, since lately the internet has been singing its praises. Let's face it: I will try fucking anything at this point. 

- Exercise. Exerting myself is not my favorite. Yes, I am lazy.

- Cleaning the shower. Worst chore ever.

- Former infertiles who forget everything about what it was like to be infertile because now they have babies and everything's awesome. It's really not their faults, because I would be exactly the same way. Who wants to dwell on the past when now you have a baby? Let's just call this what it is: Jealousy.

- Do I plan a vacation or not plan a vacation? Is it presumptuous of me to assume I might be pregnant at the time of said vacation? Yes, maybe. Is it possible to take a vacation if I'm pregnant? Sure. Problems, though: I don't want to be sick on vacation, and I don't want to fly in the first trimester (advice from Making Babies), and -- oh yeah -- I don't want to miscarry on vacation. But I will hate myself if I don't go on vacation, so fuck it. We're going.

- Articles with headlines like: "Father's Age is Linked to Risk of Autism and Schizophrenia." There's no turning back time, folks! Time to throw the dice and see how they land.

I'm sure that is quite enough bitching and moaning for today. I hope to return shortly and report on the wonders of Pregnitude ...

What's important

What I never want to happen is for anyone to tell me they are pregnant with a heavy heart. No one should feel guilty or anything but elated for themselves and the child growing in their womb when they find out they have conceived.

My honest feelings about friends who get pregnant are a jumble of jealousy, happiness, sadness, disappointment in my internal reaction, and worry for my friends. I make every effort to express only positive, congratulatory emotions in regards to new pregnancies. I don't construct strange rules in my mind, restricting friends from announcing their pregnancies or births on facebook or not calling me with their happy news -- the world doesn't revolve around me and my inability thus far to get pregnant.

So does that change when my sister tells me she is pregnant?

No.  

Is it harder or easier to hear news like that?

It's harder.

Would I ever wish anything but ultimate happiness for my sister, her husband, and their future baby?

Never, not in a million years, ever, ever. My sister had a miscarriage the night before my wedding five years ago, and still managed to be my matron of honor. Shortly after that, she was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes. This will be a high-risk pregnancy. So in the infertility world, she has done her time; paid her dues. She deserves this.

But I still couldn't write last week. I found out Monday, and on Tuesday, when I would normally draft my post for this blog, I couldn't do it. I wasn't thrashing and crying and moaning and wondering Why or When or How; I was just numb. I don't even understand my own reaction, so I had to turn away from the numbness and focus on something else.

I will be an aunt, and my husband an uncle. My parents are elated -- this is their first grandchild. Yes, as the oldest daughter, I'd have loved to give them their first grandchild, but I can't expect everyone to wait and wait and wait as month after month the pregnancy tests are negative.

And as I am in the middle of my month of bliss -- my month off of peeing on ovulation sticks and taking my temperature and charting every damn thing that comes out of my vagina -- I am finding that I am enjoying life more. Shocking, I know. Remove an obsession and life gets put into perspective again. I almost feel like Kids: Who needs em? If they happen, awesome. If not, guess who has two thumbs and is taking a trip around the world?

That might be an exaggeration.

My new insurance kicks in mid-month, and then I'll be returning to an OB I really like, to have a long talk and figure out what exactly is going on here.