Hurry Up and Wait

You know you would

So, I was thinking...

If fertilizer had the same effect on people that it does on soil, would you roll in crap?

Guess that means I'm crazy...

I saw this quote in someone's signature on a message board.

The definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over again, yet still expecting different results.

Oh, I am so insane.

Wrong on so many levels...

Look, an insult to Darth Vader and Mr. Potato Head in the same product!

More appropriate than they'll ever know

I about laughed my head off today when I saw that walmart stocks it's copies of "What To Expect While You Are Expecting" right next to the science fiction section. Of course it would have been better if it had been in the sci-fi section...

Heh, that was actually kinda funny

Maybe it's the fact that I'm wide awake (and sick) at 2am, but I actually found the comment left on this post to be hilarious. (And the fact that the commenter in question appears to have found my blog by googling "hate the Air Force" is a tad humorous as well.) But then I've secretly been hoping for a troll to come bother me just for the fun of it. I'm twisted that way.

Anyhoo, on the advise of this wise comment leaving sage, I'm off to ask Nathan to demonstrate (again) how to load the shotgun. ;)

Not that different

That's the title of one of my all time favorite country songs. (It's performed by Collin Raye, in case you were wondering.) Although it's about a romantic relationship, it seems to me that it could very well describe the relationship between us blog-friends. Here's the first verse and chorus for your reading pleasure...

She said we're much too different
We're from two seperate worlds
And he admitted she was partly right

But in his hearts defense he told her
What they had in common
Was strong enough to bond them for life

He said look behind your own soul
And the person that you'll see
Just might remind you of me

~Chorus~
I laugh, I love, I hope, I try
I hurt, I need, I fear, I cry
And I know you do the same things too
So we're really not that different, me and you

There's one particular blog-friendship where this seems to be especially true for me. I actually picked this person as "the blogger I think I have the most in common with" for my Analyze your blogroll post.

Pretending to be fertile

Think it can't be done? Oh, but I am a master of the delusional! The whole reason it's taken me a few weeks since returning from youth camp to begin blogging again is because I have been busy maintaning the illusion of fertility.

My week at camp was spent faithfully taking my birth control pill (because you know I really need it), eating like there isn't the slightest possibility I have PCOS, and being dead on serious as I wondered if I might have actually gotten pregnant on THE PILL. What brought on this bout of insanity you ask? About two weeks into my second month of BCPs I started to get the feeling that something was going on down in my right ovary. My right ovary has been the site of much painful activity in the past, so that wasn't altogether a surprise. After a day or two of ovarian pain, I was feeling much better. And then came the phantom pregnancy symptoms. Sore breasts/nipples, odd cravings, food aversions, tniy bladder... the works. Which gets the marble rolling around in my head "Was there just enough estrogen in my BCPs to do what Clomid has yet to accomplish--get my ovaries to get their act together--and make me ovulate?"

After a week of worrying (but I just had a rubella vaccine; I can't get pregnant now!) and a late appearance by my period, we had our answer--I am insane.

Further Fertile Illusions were entertained as I ignored my blogging pals and all thoughts of infertility for the next two weeks. I immersed myself in cleaning the apartment and preparing for Nathan's birthday party last Friday. I looked forward to seeing the toddler and infant that were scheduled to make an appearance at said party. I actually smiled at babies in Wal-mart and didn't cringe when my friends discussed proper sibling age difference (okay, that did make me a bit uncomfortable but only in a worrying about their sanity way because really, who are they kidding when they think you can plan the age difference between your children?!?!). I pretended to be fertile and I loved it.

And then I played all the way through The Sims Bustin' Out and I heard the call of blogdom. So here I am. But now I know why I'm infertile--I'm only pretending to be grown up and I'm really too young to be anyone's mother.

What? You mean to tell me that I'm the only one who feels like they are really just a kid living in a grown up's body? Well, I do. I'd rather be playing video games than counting carbs. I'd rather be watching TV than balancing my checkbook. I'd rather play with the puppy we are puppy-sitting this week than worry about doing the laundry. How can I be old enough to be worrying about my estrogen levels and my husband's sperm count?

In other news, I made an interesting discovery the other day. In many ways I'm at peace with my infertility. It's become part of who I am and I'm ready to stop complaining about it and actually start dealing with it. What helped me come to this conclusion was a verse I came across the other day and my reaction to it. The verse is Isaiah 54:1 and my reaction to this verse will probably surprise you as much as it did me...

"Sing, O barren, thou that didst not bear; break forth into singing, and cry aloud, thou that didst not travail with child: for more are the children of the desolate than the children of the married wife, saith the LORD."

My first thought upon reading that was to argue with God. "You can change that! I know You don't want that to be the way things are. It's just not fair!" and then I looked at it from a different angle. Now, when I read that verse what I hear is God saying this: "This is the way things are, and it's just not fair but, I'll be with you no matter what, even when you feel that someone who is undeserving is being rewarded while you are being punished." In other words, life sucks, but I've got help in dealing with it.

* Puppy Update * I have come to the conclusion that it should be illegal to leave a non-housebroken puppy with anyone, ever. That is all.

I. Am. So. Screwed. Up.

I had a beautiful dream last night. I dreamed that I was pregnant, had a perfect pregnancy, only slightly painful labor and delivery and a perfectly gorgeous baby girl. What's the screwed up part, you ask? I'm getting there.

There were weird parts to the dream of course, but nothing too major except for the fact that we were living in my Nana & Papaw's house at the time and somehow they didn't know that the baby had been born until a couple of days after we were home from the hospital. Oh and for some reason I kept thinking that Nathan's birthday was April 26 (my dad's birthday) and no one bothered to correct me in my dream other than my uncle telling me I was an idiot for forgetting that Nathan's birthday was yesterday (in my dream of course).

Now here's where it gets screwed up. In my dream, our baby was born on April 24th, which is about the time my due date would be if I get pregnant immediately after my last pack of birth control pills. As we were getting ready to leave the hospital, the Dr. (who for some reason looked a lot like my imiginary verson of Dr. Love) was commenting to me that "I guess you didn't need all that infertility testing after all." My response was something alone the lines of "Yeah, I started a new low carb diet, took a few months of birth control pills and *poof* here we are." I also added that thanks to the diet I hadn't even gained a single pound during my pregnancy (wow, now that's a good dream!) and that I'd only had one bout of nausea. Dr. Love seemed quite impressed. I think he loves me more than Getupgrrl now. ;)

So anyway, after this conversation, I start to get quite disturbed because now all of my blogging pals will think all my talk of infertility has been a big sham. I won't be able to be part of the Cool Infertiles Club. No one will care about me and my blog anymore because I got pregnant right after going off birth control.

What the heck?! That is some messed up stuff right there. I mean, it's like a woman complaining about not enjoying her baby because she's still upset over having had a c-section. That is just screwed up. No offence to any of my infertile pals, but the first chance I have to leave the Cool Infertiles Club, I'm out of here. No matter what my dreams say.

Maybe they're right.

Let me just say that I love my grandparents. My mom's parents are awesome and while they don't quite understand our particular infertility issues, Grandma can sympathize better than some because she was there for my aunt's struggle with secondary infertility. My dad's parents (well, mom and step-dad), Nana and Papaw, are a little different. They try to be supportive, but they fall into the realm of the well-intentioned ignorant when it comes to infertility.

Grandma and Grandpa are the type of grandparents who realize that their granchildren have to grow up someday and that it's important to treat them as adults when they do. Nana and Papaw on the other hand, are of the over-protective grandparent type. You know, the ones who will always see you as the little girl waiting patiently for Papaw to wake up from his nap so that he can continue reading the story.

I have new glasses

Somewhere along the way, someone traded out my normal glasses for brand new Infertility Lenses. Oh, I love the change, I really do. They automatically zoom in on every pregnant woman, adorable toddler and cute little baby within a 100 yard radius. Then the Infertility Lenses transmit a message to my brain that reminds me of exactly how many months we've been trying, and just how long it may be before we even get a glimpse of success.

Every time I step outside of my door, the Infertility Lenses bring into sharp focus the reality that I am not a mother yet. They stubbornly override the idea that I may be a mother some day. Instead they lock in on the fact that my next door neighbor gave birth to her second child a month or so ago. They remind me that my other neighbor is expecting her second child sometime in the near future. They notice that I have many friends who have conceived, carried and delivered their babies in the time that we have been struggling to conceive. They reject the idea that one woman's success doesn't take away from my potential for fertility--they insist that because my sister-in-law has a son, I never will.

Occassionally my Infertility Lenses focus on the fact that my situation is not as bad as it could be. You'd think "it's not so bad mode" would be a welcome relief, but it's really worse. "It's not so bad mode" is also designed to make me feel lower than dirt. It reminds me that I've never experienced pregnancy loss in any form and therefore I have no right to complain. It chides me for bemoaning my childlessness when there are mothers grieving the loss of the child that they gave birth to. It mocks me with names of diseases far worse than my pitiful lack of estrogen. It burns into my skull "at least your husband has some sperm."

"It's not so bad mode" also rejects any notion that life may get better. It refuses to acknowledge that Nathan's sperm count did rise in the few weeks between each semen analysis. It denies that Clomid may kick my ovaries into gear. It won't allow me to look at the positive side of things not being "that bad" because it's somehow my fault that other people may have it worse.

Infertiltiy Lenses are not one size fits all, and therefore the pair I've been given don't seem to fit very well. They rub my nose raw and the earpieces dig into my head. I think it's a sign that even my head is rejecting the idea that these are my glasses and that I'll be wearing them for a long time to come. Don't worry though, I'll be sure to destroy them when I'm done with them. No one deserves these as hand-me-downs.