When a Roll in the Hay, Becomes a Hayride

Infertility: When a roll in the hay becomes a hayride. I hope you’re not nearly as sick of my autumn analogies yet as I am. But I can’t seem to stop myself. I’ll admit I get carried away for some reason at this time of year. I get sucked into every delicious piece of snacky crap on the shelf just because it´s added “pumpkin spice” or “spooky” to its normal name. When most people are overcome by addiction, they see red. I see orange. I’m hoping I’ll be able to squelch my latest urge: To trick-or-treat this year dressed as Dorothy. Nobody wants to see a woman my age in gingham unless she’s swinging her partner round and round in a barn. Speaking of hay… and infertility… Continue reading

Corn Maze of Infertility

 

 

Corn mazes: They’re one of my favorite parts of Fall. Even though most of them feel a tad gyppy rip-offish and my husband Lloyd and I are notoriously horrible at them. It’s our annual tradition. The sweet smell of corn. The sweet sound of wives yelling at the back of their husbands’ heads: “Will you wave the damn flag already and get us out of here?!” Every year we go to the same corn maze. It’s carved out the same way. We get lost in all the same places. Last year, there had been a lot of storms. The maze was so depleted, I was towering over the stalks. And as you can imagine, at 5’2 1/4″, I don’t get that many towering opportunities. Regardless, it still took us a good hour and a half to navigate our way out. Sure, we could see the exit clearly. We just couldn’t figure out how to get there without intervention- divine or otherwise… Hm… Sounds familiar… Continue reading

Hurricane IVF- Just Another Storm to Weather

Hurricanes & IVF: The similarities are endless. It looks like Hurricanes Harvey, Irma, Jose, Katia… the whole gang will mercifully spare our area. Last year, we weren’t quite as lucky with good ol’ Matthew, the bastard. I dedicate this post from last October to those caught in the devastation of these hurricanes  and / or the horrors of September 11, 2001… and as always… the suckiness of infertility.

Whoever came up with the idea of building houses in North Carolina that run solely on electrical power must have been out of their minds….  So here I am in the wake of Hurricane Matthew, sitting in my dark bedroom for the second day, staring at my TV, not watching my football game that, according to my blank clock on the cable box, started without me, waiting for a team of strangers lurking somewhere out there in the night to flip a switch, duck tape a wire hanger to a post or super glue something so I could get on with my life.

 

What if what they’re doing doesn’t work and they have to start all over again? What if the person working on my case, isn’t the right one for my situation and doesn’t know what they’re doing? What if what they think is the problem turns out not to be the problem at all? What if this goes on for a really long time? What if everyone else around me has their situation resolved and I’m the only one left? Am I supposed to go on with my life as usual as though everything was normal? How can I still go to work, get along with my husband, deal with my friends,  deal with my family (who are a trying group to begin with), have fun, laugh like nothing’s wrong… when I’m so emotionally and physically tired and it feels like my whole life is turned upside down?

Waaaaait a minute. This feels eerily familiar.

Didn’t I feel just like this while I was going through infertility? Hurricane IVF. I remember it well.  Continue reading

Autumn of my Fertility- The Suckiest Season

Autumn of my fertility. I admit, it’s not quite as exciting as autumn itself. Waking up this morning, I didn’t even need to experience the 64 degree temperature first-hand. Just seeing it in the lower left corner of my local TV news was good enough to get me pumped up. Then there was the autumn of my fertility: Getting married at 38 1/2+ and, for an entire year trying to get pregnant naturally by myself (well, not totally by myself. I’m not a complete idiot.) Continue reading

Labor Day Pains for the Labor Pain-less

Labor Day is almost upon us again in the US. Okay, so I’m not saying I’m paranoid, but while I was going through infertility and treatments, I always took “Labor” Day as a personal affront to me and my kind. Just another conspiracy to screw with those trying to conceive I think. I mean it’s great everyone gets a long weekend off…

I know. To all of those who live somewhere where there is a Labor Day, only those trying to conceive could be offended. Most holidays offend us, or at least hurt our feelings. So why should Labor Day be any different? It’s just the beginning: Continue reading

Online Infertility Support Groups are Better than Real People

When I suggest people try online infertility support groups, I’m sometimes met with: “Why would I want to tell my personal infertility business to total strangers?” That’s it. That’s exactly why you want to go onto online infertility support groups: Because everyone is a total stranger.

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The Time My Big Mouth Got Me into Trouble: Volume 9

Like a good mechanic, a good doctor is hard to find. But fertility doctors seems to be a little bit different. The vast majority I’ve dealt with have been amazing: Very caring. Very dedicated. A few were arrogant asses. They still seemed to be excellent doctors. Just arrogant asses. Unfortunately, I’m not good with arrogant asses… and neither is my big mouth. You’d think by now we’d both be mature enough to just ignore them, but no.

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Why I Couldn’t Wouldn’t Shouldn’t Be an IVF Nurse

Not only don’t I think all nurses are created equal, I don’t think all nurses’ jobs are created equal. Even if I could pass all of the medical, scientific stuff (which is highly unlikely), I’d fail miserably at the “bedside manner” stuff. Maybe I could slide by as an emergency room nurse where you see the person, then they leave. Or at a doctor’s office where you take blood pressure and temperature, ship them off to the doctor, then they leave. But never an IVF nurse. You take their blood and they leave. Then a few days later they come back. Then a few days later, they come back. Then a few days later, they come back. You’ve surely heard the expression: “Familiarity breeds contempt”. I can’t think of a place that contempt would breed faster for me than at a fertility clinic. I was a fertility clinic patient for a year. I would have no patience for those patients. It was hard enough to be me, now I’d have to deal with me?

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Should an Infertility Graduate Shut Up?

What is an infertility graduate? Well, an infertility graduate is like any other graduate, the main difference being that any other graduate isn’t accustomed to wearing a gown that leaves your bare ass hanging out like an infertility graduate is.

Not everyone of course who is done with infertility and treatments considers themselves an infertility graduate. People tend to stop treatments for one of two main reasons:

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Peeking out of the Infertility Closet

I recently talked to an ex-boyfriend who is having marital issues. (You know it sounded normal to me until I just typed it.) He and his wife had been going through infertility issues for about ten years of their fourteen year marriage. Can you even separate infertility from your marriage at that point? Or is it like you think of infertility and you think of your marriage like they’re interchangeable? All I know is that these two didn’t talk to anybody who had been through infertility or join any online groups or support groups or anything. They kind of just kept it to themselves and told a few close friends / family members who, as we’ve all witnessed first-hand, usually either say nothing or the wrong thing just because they don’t know what the hell to say. I mean, who would know what to say? Even if you’ve been through it, it’s hard to know what to say to each individual sometimes.

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