That Joni Mitchell Was Full of It

"Don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you've got 'till it's gone…"

Ah, Joni, if only you ever struggled with infertility instead of drugs, you'd know that it is perfectly possible to mourn something that you've never even laid eyes on, let alone held in your arms. The lyrics really should say, "don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got till everyone else you know has it and you don't, thereby making you feel like a freak of nature who is never going to fulfill her lifelong dream of investing your hard-earned wisdom of the world to a younger version of yourself (big breath)." It's not as poetic, I'll give you, but it's a far sight more truthful than the original. Can you love someone you've never met? Can you desire something that doesn't exist? Can you mourn the loss of a person who only has existed in your dreams? I think we all know the answer to that - a resounding "yes". And you better believe that I'd pave Paradise if it meant I get to be a Mommy. I don't care how many coconut trees I have to bulldoze.

Forget Catholic Guilt...Infertility Guilt is Much Worse!

After thousands of my hard-earned dollars have gone to helping science to find the "cure" for my infertility, I find myself looking for ways that I can help, too. My husband gives up all alcohol (yes, even ale) and caffeine for the weeks leading up to our IUI appointments. I gave up running and caffeine (I miss you, Coke) permanently.

That's not to say that I don't relapse now and then. Today, I had a delicious piece of dark chocolate. I know it's laden with caffeine, which is not necessarily a fertility aid, but I don't care! I wanted it so badly and it called for me from its hiding place up on the top shelf. Don't get me wrong, I know in my mind that this tiny piece of cocoa goodness is not going to be the reason for my IUI not working. Nevertheless, since I have spent so much time training myself to let go of these indulgences, when I give in - I FEEL guilty! "You idiot," I tell myself, "you can't even give up a few non-nutritional snacks and beverages so that you can finally force your body into being SO healthy that it absolutely must become pregnant. For shame, woman, for shame." The guilt alone is enough to put me off chocolate for another week. Or at least a day. Or until my husband has his nightly bowl of ice cream. I'm no match for that.

Infertility Sucks, But Hiking Is FUN!

You know what hurts the most about not having kids? It's thinking that everyone else is part of a very cool club called "Motherhood", and you can't do half of what they do because you don't have the golden ticket - a kid. Well, you know what? There's a new club in town - it's called the "I get all my sleep and can go anywhere on a whim because I don't have to find a sitter" Club. That's right - only women without kids can join. And you know what we're going to do? Whatever the H-E-Double Hockey Sticks we want to! Because that's what you get to do when you don't have the financial and time restrictions that mommies do. I can pick up at the drop of a hat (as long as it's during summer or a break from school) and travel the world. I can run off to Seattle or Miami or San Diego as often as my pocketbook will allow. ( As long as I don't have an IUI scheduled that week, that is.)

I think it's time to stop dwelling on what we can't do, and start focusing on what we can do. I for one am tired of seeing all those pictures on Facebook that feature women doing things that I simply can't - running stroller races or attending Mommy-and-Me classes with their bundles of joy. There are so many things that I can do that they can't, and I need to start focusing on those things. I'm going to start a club, dammit. We're not just going to blog about our feelings and cry on each other's shoulders (though if the need arisis, that will be a scheduled activity) - we're going to DO things, see places, and celebrate the fact that we are young, healthy, vibrant individuals who have a lot to see in this wide world. (Besides, all this traveling and experiencing will just make us better moms in the long run.) It's going to start this week, and it's not going to stop. If nature won't give us what we want, we'll take from it what we will.

What to Expect When You're Not Expecting Much

Gulp. Here goes. We're going in for IUI #3. After whining about completing a procedure too early (thanks to bad weekend timing), we're doing it on CD 15. Is that too late? Did I already ovulate? Have those tiny twinges in my lower abdomen been good signs or bad signs? So many questions…no answers, just hope.

There doesn't seem to be any reason why I haven't fallen pregnant naturally. There's also no identifiable reason why the previous IUI's haven't worked. So, I don't really see any reason why this one should, either. It's not that I've lost hope - it's still perching patiently in my soul like Emily Dickinson said it would - but I have certainly set my expectations lower this time. I expect this not to work. I expect to endure the 2WW as I normally do. I expect not to feel swollen, get morning sickness, or see spotting. I expect to tell my parents that the third time was not, contrary to popular belief, a charm. I certainly do not expect to see two blue lines on a white stick on day 30. What do I expect? To keep my head up, take the next step, and continue on my journey to motherhood.

At the very least, I get to have the day of with my hubby. And Panera bread and soup. It's that good. Seriously.

There's Something About Air and Sky...

"I was crushed; I went into the back yard underneath the sky and fought it out with myself. Somehow air and sky help me to control myself; I guess they bring to me the fact that after all in the big scheme I don't count much. Anyway, Nature comforts me and helps me to say, like Lincoln, 'This, too, shall pass away.'"
-Anne Ellis, Plain Anne Ellis: More About the Life of an Ordinary Woman

Since I've all but given up on running (once a fellow pregnancy-challenged friend suggests ditching something in order to beat the odds, I pretty much do it, whatever it is), I've taken up hill climbing. I know, I know, but I walk! I figure it's the jarring of feet hitting pavement that is the culprit, not the heart rate… I like to climb a hill near my house, which offers a view of the entire town. It's an amazing sight, and makes me feel very small. Sometimes I think we need that - to feel like the minute and un-integral part of life that we are. Our problems are very seldom unique, and even more seldom as dire as we like to think they are. Anne Ellis, my new hero, summed up my feelings pretty well in a passage from her second book: Plain Anne Ellis. This is a woman who lived in the San Luis Valley at the turn of the century with five kids and $.40 to live on a day. No husband. No job. No problem. I highly recommend reading this book if you feel like life is the smallest bit difficult.

Go outside, take in the air, the sights, and the endless opportunity that life affords. Even if the problem isn't neatly solved or dismissed, it will pass. You will find a way, forge a new path, and live to the fullest.(Though I'm pretty sure that Mr. Lincoln NEVER had to deal with infertility, so that sort of nullifies his stance on time healing wounds.)

My Husband is Smarter Than Your Husband

Well, at least my husband would get an A+ on a female anatomy and reproduction quiz. You know you're trying to conceive (TTC) when your better half knows more about 'girl parts' than most women do. My husband no longer makes jokes about "that time of the month", but rather notes that, "because [my] Basal Body Temperature stayed up for over two weeks, that's a good sign that the first doctor was wrong about a Luteal Phase Disorder." Dang. Home boy knows his stuff. He reminds me to take certain pills, knows what they're for, and even asks me about the finer points of ovulation. Infertility make take away your physical ability to have kids, but if knowledge is power, my husband is a Reproductive Superhero. You go, boy.

It's the Little Things (like an 8.7 Uterine Lining and Three Healthy Follicles) That Make Life Grand

It's amazing what you consider to be "great" when you're infertile. All those drugs, all those shots, and you start to feel like there's something so wrong with you that you should have a second head or a large bleeding wound somewhere. In reality, there's nothing noticeable about you that screams "my reproductive tract is broken!", and your disappointment in yourself is very internalized. So when you go to your RE for the fourth time this month and she tells you that you have a very "pretty" uterine lining, or a "lovely little follicle" growing in your ovary, you take it as a supreme compliment. You've been working damn hard on those follicles! Every day it's a new pill or suppository…nobody tells you that you did a great job remembering to take all your pills while giving a make-up spelling test at lunch. No one pats you on the back because you gave yourself a shot in the belly before bedtime. You just suck it up and do what you need to do. Your only reward is hope. You don't really need anyone to tell you that you're doing a bang-up job and that you're a brave little soldier. But, it's nice to hear it once in a while.