And The Hits Just Keep On Coming


Ah Facebook, my worst frenemy. I know I should really just deactivate it because it causes me more heartache than anything, but I do keep up with some friends, and people message me on there rather than email or text. I know they would find another way if I suddenly disappeared, but I am addicted.

Tuesday my cousin’s wife had their twin boys approximately 7 weeks early, so of course Facebook was all a-buzz about that. Then my Aunt sent out an email to the family officially announcing it, with a couple of photos of the teeny little boys. Yesterday two brand new baby photos (one of a set of twins, and one of a singleton) showed up in my news feed, and they belonged to people I don’t even know. Two different friends of mine had commented or liked one of their friends photos, and you know how it does that thing where stuff your friends interact with show up in your news feed. Gawd, I wish it didn’t do that.

*Update: another friend announced a pregnancy on Facebook…of twins! This will be the third set of twins for people I know, over the course of a year. WTF?!

Today a friend of mine, that I don’t see very often (because him and his wife live in the US), posted a throwback thursday photo. It was the two of them dressed up as Bleeker and Juno from Halloween back in 2008, and captioned with “foreshadowing for 2014” as their subtle pregnancy announcement. Someone had wished him a Happy to-be Father’s day, but no one else really commented, and he didn’t really respond so I sort of just ignored it for the time being, though it obviously ignited my suspicions.

Someone commented on the photo that they should wear the same costumes this year, because it is so funny when a pregnant woman dress up as a pregnant person (har-dee-har-har). He commented back that it might be too late by Halloween. I immediately start counting on my fingers…she is probably about 4.5 – 5 months along already. I am surprised, and not, that they hadn’t shared yet. Her husband loves social media and is constantly posting links, and pictures, ect. But, they are fairly private people about their personal business.

It shouldn’t have been such an unexpected shock to me, they got married 18 months after us, bought a cute little fixer upper house last year, got a dog; a baby was the next “logical step”. But I am still surprised. They live their lives like J and I, doing what they want, enjoying their relative freedom. I sort of expected them to carry on their merry child-free lives for a few more years. I do forget, though, they are in their mid 30’s and don’t we all know time is off the essence?

His wife was actually my roommate when her and I were living abroad. I was 18, and it was my first time overseas, and my first time being on my own. So her and I formed a fast friendship, being that we were both in a sea of unknown, together. We’ve kept in touch over the years, her and her then-fiance came to Canada for our wedding reception held here (since our actual wedding was in Jamaica). We went to their wedding the following fall, and visited them again last May. We don’t keep in close contact, but I would consider her a treasured friend.

I’m not offended that they didn’t tell us separately (we’re not that close), but for some reason this announcement has bothered me a lot. Maybe because in them, I see myself and J. Although fundamentally, we are not very similar couples, I relate us to them. For once I don’t feel an ounce of jealousy (ok, maybe a smidge) but they are the sweetest people, and if anyone truly “deserves” a baby, it is them. Not because they had to struggle for it (though I don’t know that), but because they are really awesome people. If only that’s what really mattered in procreation, right?

I’ve been having a lot of ups and downs this week, and I suppose it is not hard to see why. I am not an outwardly emotional person, so even though I have been feeling very anxious lately, one would never know it by my demeanor. I hesitate to say I’m having a down week, because it hasn’t been all down. It has been bumpy. I am more intuitive with my feelings and emotions lately, which leads me to try to mold them.

When I feel myself getting upset, or anxious, I try to calm myself by working with my destressing techniques. And a lot of the times it works, for a little while at least. But, because I am able to observe my feelings, rein them in, and bounce back, it leads to a lot of yo-yo-ing. I suppose this is the road to being more even. First it was anxiety, and sadness most of the time, now it is more unstable ups and downs, but balanced at the same time (if that makes any sense).

I am 19 days away from CD1. We did our serology labs last week, J did his updated SA today (I am hoping Dr. M calls to give us the results, even though at this point by doing ICSI it doesn’t entirely matter). There is a stronger underlying nervousness for me. I haven’t had as much of an appetite lately, and I’ve been getting stomach aches more often. A sign I am familiar with when I am under a lot of stress. I spoke to our clinic today to clear a few things up, questions I had, based on the info they had sent. I’m just trying to manage it all, and not let my emotions get out of hand before we even hit the starting gate.

I honestly think the waiting to begin might cause more anxiety than the actual stimming will. Of course there will be new and different stresses, plus the retrieval, number of eggs, fertilization and transfer will be worries of their own. But for now, I am standing in the warm up area, with nowhere to go, just psyching myself out.

I’ll leave you with this thought, that I read on The Journal the other week, in an article by Trevor O’Sullivan;

“To those who understand childlessness an explanation is not needed, and to those who don’t understand it an explanation is not possible.”

He also cited a fantastic quote from Laura Bush, in her book Spoken from the Heart;

“The English language lacks the words to mourn an absence. For the loss of a parent, grandparent, spouse, child or friend, we have all manner of words and phrases, some helpful some not. Still we are conditioned to say something, even if it is only “I’m sorry for your loss.” But for an absence, for someone who was never there at all, we are wordless to capture that particular emptiness. For those who deeply want children and are denied them, those missing babies hover like silent ephemeral shadows over their lives. Who can describe the feel of a tiny hand that is never held?”



Never have I been more aware of life’s milestones, than throughout this infertility journey. It has become glaringly obvious that I am not hitting the societal milestone of having children in a timely fashion (according to the general population’s opinion).

All through life we are measure by our milestones. First smile, first steps, first day of school, first date, high school graduation, university graduation (or integration into the workforce if choosing to by pass post secondary), marriage, and then babies. Once the babies are born, we not only progress our own milestone but we then begin placing them onto our children. We also aid in our own parents achievements by giving them grand babies. So at this point, not only am I am failing at my own milestones, but in turn denying my mother her milestone of being a grandmother.

My best friend had her second child, another boy, by schedule cesarean last Wednesday. I took some comfort in knowing when he was coming, so I could brace myself for the blow. I wished her luck the day before and told her I would visit her when she was feeling up to it. She sent me a picture the day he was born, his little face all perfect, spared from bruising and scratches by not being squished through the birth canal, and a shock of black hair that their first baby most certainly did not have. It made my heart cringe a little, but I was, and I am happy for her.

I expected her to be in the hospital for a few days as she was there 4 or 5 days last time but they discharged her on the Friday morning. I was surprised and a little disappointed as I figured if I visited her in the hospital there would be ample excuses to make a quick exit. I recalculated my plan, and we decided to visit her at home on Sunday afternoon, as we had dinner plans at J’s parents’ that evening, and would provide us a reason to leave.

When we arrived at their house her husband was just leaving to pick up some groceries for dinner. I knocked gently on the front door, just in case one of the kids was sleeping. My friend came to the door, walking gingerly, still with a rather large belly. Her older son was in fact sleeping, so we made our way quietly into the living room where the newest addition was sleeping. She gingerly scooped him out of his playpen and passed him over to me.

I love new babies and their tiny little features. His adorable little bow mouth, frowning and suckling in his sleep, minature fingers and toes with even tinier little nails and his dark mop of hair in all it’s glory, little baby sideburns and all. He was adorable, and I told her so. I held him, J held him. He got hungry when I had him in my arms, so they got him a bottle made (she does not breastfeed) and I fed it to him. I burped him, and coddled him. We made small talk, and I asked her how everything went, how she was feeling, and how her older boy is dealing with it all. We brought a gift for the new baby, and a book for her older one. I always feel bad when there is a second child born and the first child is ignored in favour of the new baby.

After I had exhausted the list of perfunctory questions to ask about her, and the new baby there was a bit of a lull in the conversation. It got a bit awkward and I wished we could just leave at that point, but we hadn’t been there all that long. Luckily, her husband came back and that somewhat revived the conversation. I told the tales of the bridal shower/stagette I had attended and the upcoming wedding. It made me realize again what different lives her and I lead by the stories we had to share with each other.

After a sufficient amount of time, and chit chat had passed, and it was time to be getting to our dinner plans, we excused ourselves, congratulated them again and made our exit. Before even reaching the car I let out a big sigh. There was a bit of an awkwardness in the air of the visit. I know my friend would realize it would be a tricky time for me, but she could never know how truly painful it was.

When we got in the car, I leaned back into my seat and all I could manage was, “that was really hard”. We pulled away from their perfect suburban home, and back out onto the main road and the emotions started to bubble up. I gulped a big breath of air, and told J that I didn’t think it would be that hard, choking down a lump in my throat, tears threatening to spill onto my cheeks. At that moment, it was either break into hysterical sobs, or take a deep breath and hold it together. I know I didn’t have to stuff it down, but I decided I didn’t want to breakdown right then and there. We were headed to J’s parents and I wanted just to move on, for the moment. When I am alone, and safe, I will let it out. I will cry for all the sad moments I’ve endured with a smile plastered on my face. I will release it on my terms.

J held my hand the whole way, as he drove to his parent’s house. It was a good distraction to be at his parent’s, and not focus on the pain. J has recently become rather vague with his mom (who is the one in the family who asks about how things are going) as he just doesn’t want to discuss it with her anymore, nor have more questions when we begin the IVF process, so we had a rather innocuous dinner conversation.

My friend reached another milestone, her second child, and the completion of her family. I reached a more bittersweet milestone, by passing two years trying to bring our own child into the world. And just tonight, my cousin and his wife had their twin boys, about 7 weeks early, but everyone is doing well. Just another reminder that I am falling behind.

I don’t so much care what the rest of society thinks about when and how I should meet the expected milestones, but I am ready. I want to reach this next benchmark for myself, and for J.

Mercury in Retrograde


I have no idea what mercury being in retrograde even means, but people seem to blame it for strange occurrences and apparently it is happening right now, until July 1. Since I have no real reason for the strange coincidences I’ve experienced lately, mercury seems as good a scapegoat as any.

I sent my best friend a text message today to wish her good luck with her scheduled cesarean tomorrow morning. I told her to let me know when she is ready for visitors, and I will go and cuddle that little baby, and then I want to come home and just curl up in bed and cry. After I wished her all the best I was scrolling through our old text message conversations. A lot of our conversations about my infertility struggle have bounced between our iPhones, so I have this sort of built-in timeline through our messages. I knew that I had text her a photo of my last pack of birth control when I was just about finished it before officially starting to “try” to get pregnant. I wasn’t sure exactly when it was, so I decided to go back approximately two years to find it.

As I swiped further and further back through my phone, I came across a text to her in January 2013, just before we went on a trip to Mexico, when I was 3 or 4 days past when my period was due and was thinking I might be pregnant (despite having tested negative). I had told her I was nervous if I was pregnant, but hoped this was it as I was tired of the PMS hormones messing with my head. A day later, I let her know it was a false alarm and I was just late. Back up a little more, to August 2012, and a message to her just after we returned from a trip to Europe, on which I got my period. Even though it was our first “official” month trying, I was disappointed, and didn’t like all of the symptoms that cropped up not being on the pill. She told me not to get frustrated, as it didn’t often happen on the first try.

I went back little further still, to finally find the photo of my nearly empty birth control pack. June 17, 2012. Two years ago to the day. I still had a weeks worth of pills left, but I had sent it to her because it was almost time to throw caution to the wind. She was 7 months pregnant at the time, and I decided I was going to follow her lead. Tomorrow she will welcome her second child into the world and I will mark CD1 on the calendar. I’ve been feeling awful the past few days, the worst PMS I can ever remember having. I noticed a pink tinge on the toilet paper today, and generally when I am on the pill my period comes the Wednesday after I finish the pack so experience tells me tomorrow is that day.

Although I generally count my “TTC timeline” having started in August of 2012, I technically finished my last pack of pills in June 2012. It seems like a strange coincidence of events today and tomorrow. I don’t really believe in fate per se, but it does seem as though the stars have aligned in some twisted way.

I’m so close to starting the next leg of this infertility marathon, but I am so tired already. It’s a long haul, and I’ve got a big hill coming up.

Chapters of Life


In a little less than a month I will be standing up with a good friend of mine at her wedding. Our mom’s have been best friends since the 9th grade, and were pregnant with us a few months apart from each other and therefore, her and I grew up together. When we were younger, our mom’s used to dress us the same, we spent practically every weekend together (because our mom’s did), had swimming lesson together, went camping together, ect, ect. She is like a sister to me.

Over time, as we got older, with different interests, groups of friends, and no longer being dragged everywhere our mother’s went, we began to drift apart. We still had that link, the one you have with someone you spent a majority of your childhood with, but didn’t see each other as often, or keep up with the specific goings-on in each others lives. In high school we ended up at the same school as each other for the first time in our lives, but we ran with different circles, so our paths rarely crossed. It did however, put us in closer proximity to one another than we had been for years. Once high school finished we drifted further apart again, as I moved to Europe, and she went on with her life by joining the workforce.

Although we didn’t see each other very often, or have the close relationship that we once did, when I got engaged, and the time came for me to choose my bridal party, I knew I wanted her in it. Because we had our wedding in Jamaica, we knew we would lose some guests to the cost of the trip. Initially my sister-friend declined because it would have been a stretch for her to come. A few months from the wedding date she changed her mind and borrowed some money from her mom because she said she felt that she would regret it if she wasn’t there. I was thrilled (especially as my best friend who was supposed to be my maid of honor had backed out). So when she got engaged, I knew it would be my turn to stand by her side.

Myself and the other bridesmaids hosted her bridal shower and stagette this weekend for her. These types of parties are interesting because there are usually women in all stages of life in attendance; friends, aunties, cousins. Some were newly engaged, newly married, newly pregnant or newly parents. There were at least 3 pregnant women there. I tried not to keep track of them but unfortunately one sat down right next to me.

The other women at the table of course peppered her with questions about her pregnancy, and began discussing their plans for future children. One of the women at the table, who is newly engaged and getting married next year, shared that she was going to get off the pill a month or two before her wedding so they could get pregnant right away. To which the pregnant woman responded, “you know we started trying right after the wedding and it just didn’t happen, didn’t happen and finally when I had given up…poof!”. The newly engaged one nodded her head and advised that if you think about it too much, and try to hard you just get too stressed out and need to quit trying. I found out during the course of the conversation that the pregnant one is due in October, and their 1 year wedding anniversary is in August. So yeah, the obviously tried for a really long time (where is the sarcasm font when you need it!). It was at this point I got up and walked away to fill my glass with more punch. Delicious, alcohol filled punch.

Otherwise the shower was very nice. It made me reminisce of the time leading up to my wedding, when I was the blushing bride, filled with hope and ideas for our future to come. Following the shower we went for dinner and then to a nightclub afterwards. I indulged in a few cocktails, but didn’t get out of hand. I find no appeal in being excessively drunk, which will lead to being desperately hungover the next day. I also tried raw oysters for the first time, and they were delicious. It’s too bad I didn’t discover them before now as that may be a food on the no-no list soon (hopefully!).

Yesterday J and I watched some of the US open (congrats to Martin Kaymer!) and the announcers were incessantly talking about father’s day. J got a little annoyed and changed the channel a few times at some father’s day chatter, or commercials aimed at fathers. We went to my grandpa’s for dinner which my mom guilted me into, but ended up being not so bad.

My friend’s wedding is July 12, fast approaching. I will be starting a new pack of birth control this upcoming Sunday. My last pill will be the day of the wedding, which should bring me to CD1 a few short days later, when I will call my clinic to book my baseline ultrasound, and start my stimming procedure. The new chapter of her life will coincide nicely with what will be the next in my story as well. What will be written is yet to be seen.



There is a lot of garbage on T.V. lately, and unfortunately I partake in watching some of said crap. One particular fascination of mine is Hoarders. I don’t know why, but this is one train wreck that I can’t take my eyes off of. I know it is a legitimate disease that causes people to behave this way, but holy dead-cats-under-the-garbage, I can’t wrap my head around it sometimes.

The family of the “hoarder” will rally around in support, but they are usually too close to the situation to be calm with the friend or family member they are trying to help; this is where the therapist comes in. Generally a therapist is present to help the person deal with the strong emotions they feel while trying to sort through all of their belongings. One of the techniques the therapist will commonly use is exposure therapy. The hoarder is asked to choose an object to discard, and just think about getting rid of it. At this point, they will be asked on a scale of one to ten what their anxiety level is. Usually during the first exercise it is pretty high. The therapist will let them just sit with the anxiety and once it comes down to a five or a six they move on to the next step. Usually the steps get progressively harder, and produce more anxiety. They may watch something of perceived value being thrown in the trash or, be asked to discard it themselves. The therapist monitors the progress along the way, helps them deal with, and lessen the anxiety so that the clean up efforts can become a life long change and not just a band-aid solution. I realized earlier this week that I have inadvertently applied this technique to my own life.

As I’ve previously mentioned, there is a pregnant woman in my Sunday yoga class. By now she is mega pregnant and I was pretty sure she was due fairly soon. She generally sets her mat on the opposite side of the room than me, which suits me just fine. Last class we had been using props (blocks, straps, ect.) and they are all stored in a closet on the far side of the room, right where pregnant lady’s mat is. It gets a little congested at the end of class when everyone is trying to return their items to the closet. So as I was standing to the side, waiting to put back my blocks, I found myself right next to preggo’s mat. Since I was sort of awkwardly standing in her way with nowhere to go, and I was curious, I asked her how far along she was. “Hmm, 35 weeks now.” was her reply. I congratulated her on still continuing with yoga, returned my props and went back to pack up my mat.

It was a small interaction, but one that I would normally avoid at all costs. But because I truly was curious how far along she was, and I was already in an awkward position being in such close proximity to her I figured I may as well take the leap. There was a small burst of anxiety but it dissipated fairly quickly, and now I know I have at the most 5 more weeks of her bump attending “my” class.

It made me think of some of the other things I avoid because of IF, and that maybe I should try to deal with them instead of putting myself, or other people out, to try to protect myself. Although we will shortly be starting our IVF process, who knows how long we’ll be on this IF journey. And we all know that even after a successful IVF/Pregnacy/Birth/Adoption/Ect. that surviving is not without its battle scars, and most come out the other side a different person, so I’ll still have to deal with the repercussions of IF for the rest of my life.

I have also sort of been avoiding Best Friend. I probably haven’t seen her since before Christmas, as her pregnant belly has been ever-expanding. I knew that I was avoiding her but I kept making excuses for myself, that I was too busy, or she was too busy. So a few days ago I sent her a text, as she has a schedule c-section in a little over a week now. I asked her how she was doing, and if she was ready. We chatted a little back and forth, I told her I had some goodies for the baby when he arrives, and that I would offer her an extra pair of hands once the new one comes home and she has two little ones to contend with. She seemed genuinely happy to hear from me. I think she had been hesitant to reach out to me, as I hadn’t heard from her in a while either and when I did it would be sporadic and brief. She had always been my IF confidante, but when she became pregnant things changed somewhat, and then when our third IUI failed I pretty much stopped updating her. I’m glad to have bridged the gap somewhat, as I will be visiting her and the new baby (as soon as he arrives), I may as well take some steps towards that point.

Just today at the pharmacy when I was picking up my thyroid medication, I inquired to the (young, female) pharmacist if they stock fertility medication, as I would be cycling in a couple of months (actually 5 weeks, but whose counting). I know it’s not a big deal discussing fertility meds with pharmacy staff, but when going through my IUIs I would discreetly get my clomid, and then disappear, pharmacy bag stuffed in my purse. I basically do not discuss our infertility with anyone willingly, except for my doctor, nurses and psychologist, so this was a big step. We chatted back and forth a bit; they can order them in but I don’t know that it would be timely enough for me, that most people get them from the pharmacy the hospital recommends because they would have everything in stock, but I get points with the store loyalty card through my current pharmacy, and $5k plus of meds is a lot of points. It was a pretty casual, easy conversation even though I was openly discussing my infertility treatments (other people could have heard me, gasp!)

Now, I obviously didn’t expose myself as an infertile to the yoga preggo, and best friend already knew, but I am hoping that by slowing increasing my discomfort threshold, I may eventually feel more comfortable openly discussing it with other friends and family. Time to start exposing the IF chunk of my life, a little bit at a time.

The Tip of the Iceberg


Last night I had my first session with my psychologist (let’s call her Dr. Think). I liked her a lot, and I felt very comfortable with her. Speaking with her made me realise that my last psychologist (for couples counselling) probably wasn’t the best fit for me, although she did help us through our issues. I was in such a state of turmoil through my first bout of counselling, that I don’t think I was in a place to be picky about the therapist.

In any case, the first session went well. She asked some probing questions to figure out who I am, and what I am looking for through therapy. I told her I am looking for coping skills, as well as someone who can help me explore my emotions and not only that, but guide me in dealing with them. Because I don’t really talk to anyone about my infertility struggles, I find that I have all of this emotion and I don’t know what to do with it, or how to deal with it. I don’t think I ignore it, or stuff it down, per se, but it kind of just sits on my chest. It causes me to be anxious, and depressed at times. In a previous post I spoke about expressing myself and how I have a hard time doing it because I am confused by my feelings, and don’t have a constructive outlet for them. So I am hoping she can help me extract some of that, and sort through it all.

She made sure to make me feel comfortable, and told me if she pushes anything too much, or starts to lead somewhere I don’t want to go for me to stop her. I don’t see the point in avoiding difficult subjects with my therapist, I mean, what am I paying her for if I don’t dig deep? A lot of yesterdays session was just superficial stuff, what point we’re at with our infertility (I told her we are leading up to IVF), why I wanted to see her, who I use as a support network, ect.

I’m not sure if it makes me strange, but I like therapy. It can be difficult at times, but I enjoy the release, and having someone help peel back the layers. It makes me feel better, and in a way, more in control. Speaking of control, we talked about that too. How powerless infertility makes a person feel, and the grasp it has held on my life for the past 22 months (ugh, it is brutal to say that number “outloud”). I don’t know that I am always very in tune with my emotions, so I find it very helpful to have someone who is very insightful to ask probing questions, things that really make me consider my inner self. To some people, this experience is uncomfortable and they fight it. To me it is cathartic, and I welcome it.

The recent flip of the calendar brought us into June, and I am now already in the month preceding our tentative IVF start date. That in itself has made me uneasy. I am excited about the prospect of starting fresh with a new procedure (and not standing still anymore), that could very well bring us success, but extremely nervous about what it will take to maybe get that success. The day of all three of my IUIs I was extremely anxious. Very upset stomach, jittery, nervous, just overall felt like junk. I don’t want to deal with that everyday of the IVF process. Dr. Think has given me tools to use to help strengthen myself in the coming weeks leading up to IVF. She told me to take half an hour everyday to work on some techniques to help reduce stress and anxiety, which in turn will allow me better control it when my emotions start running higher.

One thing I am to work on is deep breathing, even just in small doses. I told Dr. Think that I have been using a meditation app (it’s called Complete Relaxation, highly recommend it) to fall asleep recently and it includes a lot of deep breathing exercises. She said that deep breathing can help control stress and bring it down to a more manageable level. Another suggestion she made was to get 10 minutes of exercise a day, in whatever form I like. I had mentioned that I like yoga, and she told me even 10 minutes of any form of physical activity can be helpful and recommended I check out Yoga for Fertility. I am also supposed to think of three things at the end of each day that went right, so that when I am having a hard day, I can look back on the positives.

I think it was a good start, I think I am going to be happy to work on myself, with her. But at the end of the session, she stated that she thought we had only just scratched the surface of what’s going on with me, and I’d have to agree. I like this woman, she can see right through me.

Enjoy the Now


Mondays suck. Especially when the weekend was particularly enjoyable. We had a glorious weekend, filled with sunshine, friends, family, food and drinks. I had another Saturday off, even though it was technically my “turn” to work. We spent the morning lazing on the couch, hanging out with the dogs and watching golf (yes, I like golf). J had to go out to get his brother a birthday present so I asked him to pick up some blueberries on his way home so I could make pancakes. We visited a teeny tiny little restaurant in NYC that made the most heavenly blueberry pancakes, and I wanted to recreate them in my kitchen.

J came home with blueberries in hand exclaiming that he felt like he went to Whole Foods for how much they cost (we don’t have Whole Foods in our area, but I am well aware of its nickname “Whole Paycheck”). $8 for a medium-sized clamshell of blueberries! Apparently it is still too early in the season to be buying such things. If it were me that had gone to get them, I would have said forget it at that exorbitant price, but J doesn’t see money the same way I do. Oh well, I was craving blueberry pancakes, and that’s what I got. They were delicious, although they were more blueberry than pancake (oops). The dogs also got to enjoy some of the blueberries as well, which they were quite pleased about. Most expensive dog treats ever. But hey, at least they’re healthy.

We met BIL and SIL with the nieces for some late afternoon appetizers, and we sat out on a patio. I indulged in a delicious mojito (doubles were on special, so I had a double). We then had dinner at our friends’ house, along with another couple (who we’re also friends with) and I enjoyed a few more drinks. We had a fire out in their backyard and it was so nice visiting in a quiet intimate setting, rather than a large group of people. Even J commented on the way home, that he really enjoyed himself and I was very happy that we got to have a nice evening out with friends. Him and I are both, for all intents and purposes, introverts. We don’t always come off that way, but neither of us like big parties, or being around a lot of people for an extended period of time.

I didn’t feel super awesome yesterday, even though I didn’t have that much to drink the day before. I wasn’t hung over, just really tired and felt kind of junky. For now I am not going to concern myself with my alcohol consumption. I don’t normally drink much to begin with, but summer is here and I have more parties, weddings, ect. that I will want to indulge at (or don’t want to be questioned endlessly if I don’t drink. Is it bad that I drink in front of some people so they won’t ask me if I’m pregnant?). So I will imbibe on those special occasions, but once IVF time comes around, I know I’ll have to stop. I’ll enjoy it while I can.

Sunday was another fairly lazy day. J and I went for lunch with his mom. It was a little awkward as there is still some fairly heavy family drama going on that does not  involve us, but we are, unfortunately, intertwined. I mostly get to stay out of it, but J is often caught in the middle and he doesn’t know what to do about. We had a fantastic yoga sesh yesterday, and generally enjoyed each others company. All in all a lovely weekend.

In a totally unrelated line, I’ve been using a meditation app on my phone to help me fall asleep lately (as I have had problems sleeping for the past several months). Last night I put my ear buds in and tried to fall asleep, but one of our dogs was in the bed and making it difficult to get comfortable. I tried to shift him over (he is only 10lbs after all) but he was just dead weight. Normally if I pick him up and move him, he’ll squirm or yawn or something, but this time nothing. He was making these weird wheezing noises occasionally, and for some reason I had this irrational fear that he was going to stop breathing. So then I couldn’t fall asleep because I kept touching him to make sure he was still warm, and listening to his little heart beat, and his lungs rising and falling. I was just being paranoid, and he was just really tired but it freaked me out. It was like all of my worries and anxiety were brought to the surface by this little dog sleeping soundly at my hip. So then it took forever to fall asleep, which I finally did, although it was rather fitful. So needless to say, I was not happy to wake to the screeching of my alarm this morning.

Again, totally unrelated, last week I was reading a book about called IVF: A Patient’s Guide (highly recommend it, it is written by an embryologist, for patients. Had lots of great information). J asked me what I was reading, which led to him asking what our IVF “deadline” was so to speak; when we would officially be starting, and when he should stop looking for/applying for jobs. I told him I anticipated CD1 would be around Jul. 16, and that should be pretty accurate seeing as I am on BCP, and my cycle is like clockwork on those suckers. Realizing this is only 6 weeks away, he said “well I shouldn’t even bother continuing to pursue job opportunities then”. I told him he could if he wanted to, as we agreed that we would keep at it until IVF started. But the likelihood of something coming through in that time frame is pretty slim, and he realised it. He still has some applications floating around out there, but opportunities always seem to peter out before they even get going.

He is annoyed that it hasn’t been easier for him to get a transfer, and also, obviously, frustrated with IF (which in reality is the bigger problem). I feel bad for him, because I know he blames himself for the fact that we have to do IVF. I mean, yes, when it comes down to it, the main issue seems to be on his side, but in the grand scheme it doesn’t matter whether it’s a problem with him or with me, it is a problem for both of us. But that, compounded with the fact that he can’t take this next step with his career is a lot to take. I can see how he must be feeling totally helpless.

I sort of already had it in my head that more than likely we would go forward with IVF, but I kept it to myself since I wanted J to know that I am still open to the idea of moving. If something had, or does, come up, I will still be open to it. But again, chances are not great. I am still trying to think of IVF in abstract terms and not psych myself out about it since it is still in the distance, but at the same time educate myself as much as possible. I am treating it like a research project right now, rather than something that is going to happen to me. But time is ticking away quickly, we are already in June. I know the next 6 weeks will go by quickly, as we are busy and have lots of events to attend. I am a bridesmaid in a wedding on Jul. 12, and that will be the last hurrah before diving into IVF a few short days later. It will be a good distraction, but I hope I am not to stressed out by the impending IVF cycle to enjoy it.

I have a lot bouncing around in my head lately, but I’ve mostly been doing well. I think not having to worry about TTC or even consider whether I’m pregnant or not (thanks BCP!) has helped. I still have tough days. When it is not busy at work, I troll IF blogs, and get too worked up about everything. I try to have somewhat of a plan in my head, but we all know that IF does not care about your plans. I am also trying not to think that it will work the first time. As much as I desperately want it to work, more than anything, I have to be realistic and not get overly hopeful (I know, we haven’t even started cycling, I’m just trying to stay grounded).

I have an appointment with a psychologist tomorrow, just to help me work through everything and hopefully be in a decent head space before we actually start IVF because I’m sure it’s going to be a bumpy ride.