Tears of joy...

Baby showers. When you're trying to get knocked up they suddenly become a very different beast. I didn't realize this until I went to my first baby shower a year after we started trying.

It was all going great: a beautiful day, a lovely lunch around the pool, margaritas flowing... it was my kind of party.
Three margaritas later, things began to shift. As the mother-to-be began opening her gifts: little shoes, little clothes, little hats... my mood went into a downward spiral. I sucked back tears as I wallowed in my misery. Inner B* was banging her fists on the table and yelling why not me! why not me! why not me! Waaaah!!!! I told her to shut it, drank some water, and quickly recovered.

My lesson: baby showers, alcohol, and infertility do not mix.






*Inner B: My subconscious voice. She likes to speak up and tell the truth of what I'm really feeling and thinking- especially when it is not PC or the 'right' way to think.

Pearl necklace

Proceed with caution

My husband and I decided to move forward with our fertility journey and began treatment using clomid, HCG, and IUI. In layman's terms: clomid is a pill which increases my baby-making hormone levels, HCG is an injection in my bum which induces ovulation, and IUI means my husbands boys are inserted directly into my uterus.

Now that all those exciting descriptions are out of the way... the real experience was quite different.

Taking clomid and receiving the injection was pretty straight forward (on a side note- as I was bent over the table, my pants around my ankles, ready for my injection of HCG, the nurse asked me to please clasp my hands together to prevent me from hitting her. That did not give me a lot of confidence).

Picking up my husbands "washed" sperm (only the best for me!) from the fertility clinic was not as straight forward. The nurse handed me a test tube filled with the goods and told me to stick it between my breasts. So out I walked into the busy city streets with my husbands sperm sticking out of my bra- to keep them at body temperature, I was told. I prayed I would not get into a car accident as I drove to my ObGyn's office. I'm not sure how a shattered vile of sperm would be written up on an accident report.

Momma always said wear clean underwear, she never said anything about clean sperm.

Ladies, our time has come

Since I mentioned it in the previous blog entry, I thought I would quickly expand on why orgasm for both man and woman is improtant for getting pregnant.

Orgasm is important for the man because, duh, how else are we gonna fertalize those eggs.

But the sweet, sweet fact is: it's improtant for a woman to orgasm too! Why? Because when a woman has an orgasm, her uterus contracts and "sucks up" the semen as it is released. Woot! This is still only a theory in the medical field... but I won't tell my husband if you don't.

Beauty & the beast

These days having sex isn't as spontaneous as it once was. There are a lot of factors to consider; position, time of the month, orgasm (more on this later), and we have to take a day off inbetween "sessions" (so Husbands boys have time to pump some iron and prep for another long journey).
When the deed is done, I have to lie on my back for twenty minutes. Some days this is heaven: Husband will bring me a cool drink as I I read, watch TV, play angry birds, and feel all-in-all like a Goddess.

But the other night, we were running late for dinner and I still had wet hair, so Husband handed me my hair dryer and I strategically tried to blow dry my hair while keeping myself face-up and horizontal on the bed.

I don't think this is what's meant by multi-tasking.

Getting lucky

I have to pee on a stick to test when I'm ovulating. If one line appears on the stick, it means I am not ovulating, if there are two lines, it means I am ovulating, i.e it's time to make whoopy! I have to do this test several times a month and I feel a few adjustments should be made to bring a little joy into the not-so-sexy test (i mean, really- how sexy does it feel to shove a stick in your pee).



If I ran the world:
Instead of two lines to indicate a positive test, I'm thinking a smiley face, thumbs up, or the words "you're getting lucky tonight!" should appear. Concurrently, an audio message should be sent automatically to my husband's phone that plays Let's Get it On.
(other song options: I Want Your Sex, Sexual Healing, You Shook Me All Night). 

Get out of my face

After two years of trying to get pregnant, I went to my first appointment with my new ObGyn to discuss options. As I walked to the little room to have my blood drawn to test my baby-making hormones, I was accosted at every turn with walls and walls of baby photos. As the nurse drew my blood, I smiled lovingly at the Hallmark of happy families in front of me, all the while Inner B* was giving the wall the middle finger.






*Inner B: My subconscious voice. She likes to speak up and tell the truth of what I'm really feeling and thinking- especially when it is not PC or the 'right' way to think.

Maybe baby?

Yep. I want one of these.

I realized I could go two ways with infertility (God, I hate that word... can't I just be "baby challenged" or "hard-to-be-a-babies-mama"-- anything but the F word), anyway- as I was saying- I could go two ways, wallow in the misery of it all OR say f*ck it and find the humor in a sad and frustrating situation. Sometimes finding the funny is easy and sometimes... not so much. But for the sake of my sanity, I went to what I know- writing and humor- and started this blog.

I don't care if everyone knows my business (obviously! I'm writing a blog) but my adoring husband may not love his manhood put out there for everyone to see so I will try and keep this anonymous... we'll see how that goes.