February 25, 2010

As a gift to us, my husband and I have decided to take off overnight somewhere special. We both had very different ideas about what constituted relaxation, or a getaway, but the one thing we did agree on was that it had to involve eating.

I know I know, “get healthy before you get pregnant”, all I hear when someone quotes that phrase is “blah, blah…white chocolate cheesecake…blah”. There are two types of people in this world: those who love food and all that surrounds eating, and those who are weird. I happen to fall in the first category.

It has been known to occur while I am eating a meal, that my mind wanders to my next meal, whenever this happens I fall into a state of bliss one can only compare to ecstacy. To those of you who are reading this, and love food, don’t judge me. You know what I’m talking about.

Ok, back to my overnight trip. My husband and I both hit the internet to check out where we would like to go. After a few days of debate, we settled on something close enough to enjoy the drive, but far enough to feel like we’re away. Our package for the weekend is one that involves food; a four course meal on the first night followed by a brunch the next day. Ever since we booked this place I have been drooling over their menu; trying to plan what I will order, what else the kitched can make after dinner hours (in case I get hungry) and how much variety a brunch can entail. It turns out, quite a bit in the end.

I keep dreaming of getting pregnant and being able to give my husband the gift of a child. And I’m sure it’s quite the gift to receive.

But for now, the gift of decadence and over-indulgence takes the cake. Pun intended.



Aunt Flo.

February 24, 2010

Who the hell is Flo anyway? Coming into my life when I’m hopeful and happy. She takes the fun out of riding a bike, swimming and horseback riding (well, at least that’s what the commercials will have me believe). I have always felt bad for those women out there who are named Flo and have a niece (or nephew), what an unfortunate turn of events.

I knew in the back of mind this month, even after spending the dough on yet another cycle of IUI, that I was going to be visited by every woman’s least favorite “family member”. But, I’ll continue to forge ahead because I won’t let Aunt Flo win. I can tolerate her for another few days… right? 

I wish Aunt Flo would go on a well deserved vacation, somewhere hot, where she would fall in love with a local and never come back.

Wait, don’t I need her?

Damn womanhood…damn it to hell.


Fur babies.

February 23, 2010

What the hell is a fur baby anyway?

I love, love, love my pets. Sometimes more than I love my husband (shhh) but to call them my babies, publicly? No way. Sometimes I do feed my cat or dog before myself, and yes when they beckon, things (like going to the washroom and feeding myself) get put on hold, and even in the height of play time I have been known to call myself “mummy” when talking to my dog, who I know doesn’t speak English.

I hold my cat like he is a newborn, much to his dismay. I like to talk to my dog and whisper in his ear how awesome he is. Sometimes my husband and I will interrupt the other’s TV watching to point out some super cute thing that one of our pets are doing.

So, yeah I guess when I re-read this entry I sound a little crazy. Am I replacing my desire to have a child of my own with the unshakable love of a pet? Hell, yeah. Am I going to introduce them on the internet or elsewhere as my “fur baby”? No way.

Well, not yet at least.

Let’s just wait and see what 2010 has in store for me. If my cat or dog are seen wearing clothes… all bets are off.


He shoots…

February 21, 2010

Even tonight as I watch the Canada vs USA Olympic hockey game, I can’t stop equating their accurancy to put a puck in the net to the sperms accuracy to penetrate the egg. I know, it sounds nuts, but these are the things most commonly found on my brain.

The conclusion I have come to tonight, while Canada can outshoot the USA by almost double, is that there are no guarantees. The goals are starting to look less and less a result of hard work and more and more a result of chance.

I hope, by chance, that there’s a sperm in my egg.



February 20, 2010

I’ve recently entered this new phase in my journey to conceive a child. This phase is the I-know-enough-about-this-subject-to-now-impart-my-knowledge-on-friends-and-family-members phase. By having this reserve of useful (only within the fertility world) information it makes me feel more empowered in this process. Is this a good thing? In one, single, non-committal answer: I don’t know.

Today was a day where I decided that I wanted to know more. I want to be able to go back to my clinic and say things that they thought only they knew. I want them to hear me, to follow me closer and to fear me. That’s right. I want to be such a pain in their behinds that they think, ‘man let’s just do all we can to get her knocked up and out of our hair’. Yes.

So I began my internet research. I know what levels of estrogen, lutenizing hormone and FSH has to be on day three of my cycle. I will ask them to see my charts and convince me that my progesterone levels are ok and not causing problems for said cycle. I will bring with me medical facts and statistics so that they hear me and help me just get the show on the road.

Here’s the clincher: I have no idea what any of that stuff means. The more I read online the more contradictory things I find. The more I visit a popular message board the more I see that women, much like me, are posers. They pretend to know how to diagnose complete strangers from over the world wide web, without so much as seeing a picture of them. We want so badly to not lose the control of our own bodies but the truth is, we lost control the day we walked into our respective clinics. The day we decided to ask for help, we gave up our atonomy.

When we reach a point where we doubt the very person who we entrusted our success to, we will have no success.

In the immortal words of George Michael: I gotta have faith-a-faith-a-faith-ah.



February 19, 2010

The waiting game.

This is a time frame also known as the ‘two week wait’. How cute, it’s alliterated. In this time period us women have to pretend that our bodies aren’t sending us signals which tricks us into thinking that we may be pregnant.

I often wondered how women have accidentally gotten pregnant, when there are so many symptoms out there. Here’s what they sound like: “oops I just realized I was a month late…” really?  Your boobs didn’t hurt when you moved, or you didn’t feel bloated, or nauseated or even tired?? The honest answer from these women? “No”.

When I embarked on this trip of trying to make new life and realized how many little symptoms our body produces just to warn us that our period is around the corner, it struck me as odd that these ‘oops women’ didn’t feel a thing. This is the power of thought at work, above and beyond anything else.

The more time I spend in the trying-to-get-pregnant group, the more my boobs hurt each month, the more times I feel sick or dizzy and the more often I just have that feeling of being pregnant.

My brain has betrayed me, time and time again.

After a longer than usual wait two months ago and a shorter than usual wait last month, all proving to be negative, I am slowly learning to ignore my body. I long to be out of touch with my body, to know less, to think less and to drink more.

Ignorance truly is bliss.


A food baby.

February 16, 2010

In light of an over eating bonanza that was our latest staff meeting, I’d like to shed some light on something some of us women have had the absolute horror of dealing with: that is the mistaken pregnancy.

“Congratulations!” or “How far along are you?” or even the strangers hand reaching out to touch your belly. I’m not interested in what it’s like for all you mamma’s out there who have had a stranger reach out and touch your *gasp* stomach while pregnant. Imagine that happening, when there is no baby inside.

I know sometimes those of us without children may like to eat out the odd time… hell, maybe all the time (since we have all this extra money and no kid to have to spend it on) and all this eating out results in little ponches or pooches, or the dreaded gunt. I hear you ladies who love food, I hear you loud and clear. For a while there I thought I may only be trying to get pregnant to hide my overall big-ness.

When your eating creates what one can only assume is a pregnancy, you need to get a hold of yourself. I am not without guilt in this category. I’ve had an autistic student yell accross the cafeteria last year: “Miss! Are you pregnant?!” He was shocked to see that I was with child, and I was mortified to not just be asked, but have it bellowed for all to hear.

How do we survive the dreaded question? With anger? With shock? With tears? No to all of the above. We handle it with grace and humour. Keep on top of things as best we can and draw attention to it, before they can.

Today as I sat with a friend at work she informed me that she was in fact pregnant, with twins. Their names? “Chips and Paté”.

So there you have it.



February 15, 2010

When it comes to fertility, drugs are a primary step in the direction of conceiving a baby. Once you have lived through the not-getting-pregnant phase of the relationship you begin to bargain with yourself.

For us, the first step was getting tests (that was it, nothing else, especially something invasive). Our second step was having my tubes checked, something I can only equate to having needles stabbed into your insides. Once you think that you can’t handle any more pain you, by some strange twist of evil fate, do.

By the time we went through the proper chanels for our clinic, we found ourselves at a crossroad. Ok, not we, really just me. I was indignant for a long time that I would not take any drugs. I had a ridiculous amount of anxiety taking the HCG shot ( a needle to the belly that triggers ovulation) the needle was given to me by none other than my sister the nurse, I mean could I have had a better person to preform this ritual? I treated the shot as though I had just dropped acid, waiting to see the effects, if any. All that ended up happening was loads of anxiety topped off by a panic attack.

Once I was ok with the HCG shot, or the “trigger shot” as people in fertility circles call it, I became more open to what drugs I could take next. Much like a drug addict the first drug was not enough, I sought a more powerful fertility drug that could do more to up my chances. Come to think of it this whole fertility-drug-introduction thing is a perfect blend of a drug addiction meeting a gambling problem.

So here I am, my desire to try more drugs to solve the situation while I weigh my odds at getting pregnant. So now, I find myself being prescribed yet another drug (the little blue pill I told you about) which you stick up where the sun don’t shine for a lady, if you catch my drift. From the warmth of your lady part, the estrogen penetrates (‘scuse the pun) your body and  renders you a weepy mess (in my case).

So here you have it, from a drug free desire to get pregnant to three kinds of drugs. A move I made in less than 5 months. I really should have paid attention to those after school specials.

Just say… yes?



Be my valentine.

February 14, 2010

Whether you believe that St Valentin was a martyr of the early Christian church, or that he was killed on February 14th, or better yet: that Valentine’s day is soley a commercial practice invented by Hallmark- you find yourslf buying a card and some chocolates, socks, underwear, sex toys, flowers, movies and anything else your loved one might deem a good romantic gift.

Why do we do it? Simple… we do it for love. This love, we are taught at a young age, can lift us up, it’s all we need, can pay the bills and save us from ourselves. We are desperate to find it when we hit that age where it all starts to make sense. We will do anything to save it. We know that even in the middle of our most maddening fights, we still feel  the love.

I was led to believe a little while back that with our love, my husband and I, could create new life. Ahhhh the ultimate Valentine’s gift. This could very well be that month. Only time will tell.

For now, while I wait, I will eat chocolate 😉



February 13, 2010

What things in life can we control? We can control what we eat, when we sleep, who we hang around, how we spend our free time- you get the picture. There are far more things in life which we cannot control. These are always the big things; the cliché about death and taxes comes to mind.

Fertility falls into the latter category. The term “family planning” used to make sense to me, but now I see it as an oxymoron. The paradox here is that you can’t plan a family. And those of us throughout time who have managed, those people do no different than you or me. They get lucky, and how often does luck come into play when you’re planning something? Seriously.

So I have vowed to give up control. I can choose when to have sex, which doctor to visit or to take my temperature. I cannot control what will happen. I also cannot control how I feel about it all, I cannot shut off or turn on, I cannot take a vacation and forget about it, I most certainly cannot change my mind in any way. I am stuck on this ride, and I have no control.

I take pleasure in the fact that all this struggle and all my tears will be worth it in the end. But I can’t make it happen for me, I can only wish.

I wish, I wish, I wish.