Reappearing Through the Fog


First off let me apologize for becoming one of those bloggers who gets pregnant and disappears off the face of the earth, so not my intent. Quite the opposite in fact, I have so much on my mind I’ve been waiting for a good time to get it all out, instead of just posting a rushed update (which in hindsight, I probably should have thrown something out there for those who remembered my first ultrasound was this past Friday). We finished our vacation in Hawaii and flew home last Tuesday, J had caught a cold early on in the trip but I managed not to catch it from him…until about 4 days before we came home. So by the time we did fly home, I was a snotty, congested mess. I called off sick for what would have been my first two days back at work, but by Friday I knew I would have to get up for my ultrasound appointment and just suck it up and go to work after.

The morning of our ultrasound, I still wasn’t feeling great but the extreme pressure in my ears had finally popped. I got in the shower but started to feel a bit off, turns out Poppet (this is our baby’s nickname, I’ll explain later) decided the day of the ultrasound was as good as any for me to start experiencing morning sickness. I was trying to drink water to fill my bladder for the ultrasound, but couldn’t keep it down, so I desperately drank piping hot mint tea on the way to the appointment in hopes of quelling my nausea and that my tiny bladder would fill quickly.

The waiting room was empty, (as opposed to the first time I was there, making the appointment, when it was full of pregnant women) on account of our very early appointment. We didn’t wait long and we were called back by the ultrasound tech. She had me hop up on the table, and there was a seat for J behind me. She asked me my LMP, and I told her I thought it was Nov. 27, but that it didn’t really matter because I am an IVF pregnancy (which she then noted on my info up on the screen). So she asked my due date instead, which my clinic gave me as Sept. 2. She got down to business straight away and squeezed the jelly onto my stomach. It felt strange to have an abdominal ultrasound, rather than vaginal. The only other time I’ve had an external (as opposed to internal) ultrasound was when they did my embryo transfer so it was an interesting deja vu.

As soon as she placed the ultrasound tool on my stomach she noted that my bladder was not full at all. I apologized and told her I’d been sick that morning and had a hard time drinking the recommended amount of water. She told me she would have to do a vaginal ultrasound, and asked me if I was familiar with them. I had to laugh, and told her I was extremely familiar, which she noted, of course I would be. She left the room to get the “probe” and let me get into a state of undress. When she came back in, she prepped the wand and then handed it to me under the sheet and asked me to insert it…This was very odd and I even gave her a startled, “Me?”. She told me, I would know best what was comfortable better than her. Well ok, fair enough. She was also very tactful and kept the sheet covering me the entire time. A lot different from my experiences with probings of an infertility nature.

As she moved the wand around, I could immediately see my uterus (a fair bit bigger than before!) and in it a little blob, and before she could even point it out, I could see a little flashing in the centre of the blob. There was the heartbeat I’d been desperate for. After wanding around a little bit longer, she focused on the heartbeat for a moment, pointed it out, and for a few short seconds a sound filled the room. The most amazing thing I had ever heard, our baby’s heartbeat, strong and fast at 163 BPM. The tears flowed freely and slid into my hairline, since I was laying on my back.

After taking several pictures, and measurements, pointing out the head and the rump (which was all sort of indistinguishable as it was curled up into a tiny ball) the tech left the room to let me redressed. When she came back she put some pictures on our USB (that we were told to bring) and printed us a single photo. J and I hugged, and kissed, basking in the surreal-ness of the whole experience. There was actually something in there, something with a heartbeat.

The whole time since our positive and rising betas, and especially since my episode of bleeding in Hawaii, I’ve had a hard time really believing or wrapping my head around the fact that there truly was a living thing in my uterus. None of it was tangible enough for me, I need visual proof to allow me to believe. Plus I was terrified of something going wrong, and finding out at the ultrasound like, feeling like some sort of fool for believing things were actually progressing how they should. I’d been behaving like a pregnant person, but I still felt like a fraud until that little flashing blip came into view on the screen.

Since then, I’ve had one person ask me if I was planning on having kids (an acquaintances mother, whom I hadn’t seen in a while), and I gave the same answer I always do, “eventually”. I had to cancel the appointment I had to get my wisdom teeth removed. I made it knowing full well (and hoping) that I may be pregnant, but I didn’t want to put off making the appointment just in case I jinxed myself by counting on getting pregnant. When I called they asked if I’d like to reschedule, which I declined, and told the receptionist that I was pregnant so wouldn’t be able to reschedule for a while. A girl I went to high school with had a baby recently (unplanned pregnancy with someone she ended the relationship with before she even knew she was pregnant), and it still rubbed me the wrong way. I see pregnancy announcements on Facebook, and pregnant people in real life and I still cringe. It’s a built-in reflex that will probably take a while to fade out.

As terrible as it may sound, I waited to start filling out my pregnancy journal until the day we had our ultrasound. I didn’t want to have that ripped from my hands before we had really any gotten anywhere concrete. I am still cautious about what’s around every corner, but the ultrasound did good things to my scarred soul.

The symptoms that I so desperately wished for while in Hawaii, still wondering about the contents of my uterus have made themselves known. I’ve had a few episodes of vomiting, and I don’t feel the greatest in the morning. I am tired a lot, and breast tenderness shows up with a vengeance around bed time. I have a few food aversions, but mostly I just crave fresh things, lots of fruits, and vegetables. Apples are my favourite. My cravings lend to a healthy diet, though sometimes at lunch when I don’t know what I want I come back to work with a random bag of groceries because I just couldn’t decide. My forehead is as angry as ever, flaring up in full on acne, the one consistent since about a week after the transfer. But I am happy, elated, scared and hesitant. One step at a time, and 8 weeks tomorrow. Thank you all for the love and support. I’m here, I’m back, and I’m not planning on disappearing anytime soon.


Sand Shifting Underfoot


So much changes, seemingly rather quickly, over the course of time and treatment with infertility. At first it was just “taking a little longer” for us when we were trying naturally. Then we were onto IUIs and then ultimately IVF with ICSI. As we moved through the paths of treatment I formed different bonds with different people and felt connected with a certain tribe along each step. Obviously the overarching connection is infertility in general, but there were the sub categories too, of what stage of treatment I was in at the time.

Through this blog I’ve connected with some awesome women, one of which lives in my same city and became my IVF buddy, if you will. Her and I ended up going through IVF near simultaneously, with me doing the stimming and retrieval before her, and her doing the FET before me (though my FET protocol differed slightly). It was so nice having someone who not only understood what I was going through, on a general level but literally went to the same clinic at the same time as me. It was great, we closed down many a coffee shop chatting about infertility, and life.

Unfortunately our IVF cycles had pretty drastic differences in their success and her FET did not work, so when mine did I know it was a punch to the gut (for her, and for me because I wanted this for her as much as I wanted it for me). I emailed to let her know my transfer had worked, and how shitty it was that we were now seemingly on opposite sides of the fence. IVF may not be the solution for her, so it’s not just a matter of trying again. It was a bit like Sliding Doors, my cycle went one way, and took me down a path, and hers went the other, leading her on a different journey.

In response to my email, confirming my positive beta, I received a heartbreaking response from a woman clearly in the throes of agony. In light of the different directions we have ended up in, it seems our friendship may be discontinued for her own self preservation. And it sucks, but I get it. I don’t know how I would have handled it had the situation been the other way around. I have always been happy for other IF ladies when they finally succeed, but previous to my own positive beta, admittedly, I would unfollow a lot of people. It was too hard to see their happiness and read their updates without my green eyed monster making snarky comments in my ear.

So I’m heartbroken for my friend, and really sad that I won’t be able to walk beside her and help her through what is most likely going to be a continuation of a difficult journey, possibly about to get worse. I’ll send her all my love from a distance, and hope that there is something great on the horizon for her.

And just in the way that every turn around a corner in infertility holds so much unknown, so too does pregnancy hold those dark forbidding areas, lurking just out of sight. On Tuesday morning we were packing up at our hotel in Oahu, getting ready to head to Maui. I was in the shower when I saw red going down the drain. It startled me but upon further investigation it seemed to be just a little spurt. Concerning, but didn’t seem to be continuing. After I turned off the shower and started to dry myself I notice my red on the pristine white hotel towel (sorry to the Hyatt). I wiped and there was more blood, a lot more. I came out of the bathroom and said to J, “Don’t freak out, but I’m bleeding”.

I think I was trying to get myself not to freak out more than anything. I remained eerily calm, yet shaky as I kept checking, and more blood kept coming. I asked J to go down to the store in the lobby of our hotel and buy my some tampons (I know, in hindsight, bad choice but I wasn’t thinking). I called my clinic because I didn’t know what else to do, and left them a message to please call me back. When J came back upstairs and gave me the tampons, he hugged me and I burst into tears. I was convinced I was having a miscarriage and for all of the ambivalence I have tried to force on myself in regards to our little embryo, it clearly hadn’t worked.

We went to the airport and caught our flight over to Maui. Not long after leaving the airport in our rental car, I received a call from my clinic. I told the nurse I was bleeding, and that I was in Hawaii. She told me there wasn’t really much they could do (obviously, but who else was I going to call??). She asked how much bleeding there was and I told her more than spotting, and bright red. I hadn’t had a chance to go to the bathroom since we left Oahu so I hadn’t checked the status of the blood so I didn’t have many answers for her in that regard. She told me to take it easy and if I soaked through a pad in a couple of hours to seek medical attention.

By the time we got checked into our hotel here in Maui, I went to the bathroom to see what was happening. Some more red blood, but had turned to brown at some point. There was more red than brown but it wasn’t super heavy flow, and seemed to be tapering off. J had googled bleeding in early pregnancy and tried to ease my mind showing me how common it could be, and especially with IVF-ers but in my heart I just felt it was bad. Over the course of the next few days I mostly just had a brown discharge along with the progesterone suppositories. It has pretty much gone back to normal now, just the white of the suppositories.

I have zero symptoms at the moment, there are a few things that could potentially be attributed to pregnancy, but overall I feel no different, and rather un-pregnant. I have this awful feeling that there is nothing going on in my uterus and that the progesterone is just holding off the inevitable. I have a mentality to expect the worst and hope for the best. I think infertility has taught me that, because with so much going wrong, I’d rather just believe something isn’t going to happen, or work, than get my hopes up and be crushed every time. To be fair it’s all rather crushing but when I get used to the idea in advance it’s an easier pill to swallow.

But at this point there’s no way to know if there is a little pea sized thing growing, growing, growing until we can physically see it. So for now it is pretty hard to believe it is there. I just have to hold on until Friday… We’re almost there, but the wait is excruciating.

#Microblog Mondays: Vacation/Distraction


Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.


I didn’t want to miss out on Microblog Mondays despite the fact that I’m on holidays. I have some interesting thoughts rolling around but I’ll save them for a post when I have more time to sit and write. For now I am trying not to worry about the fact that I have zero pregnancy symptoms, and allowing my surroundings to distract me from counting the days until my first scan. I hope the first Monday of the year was a kind one to everyone. Here’s how we spent our day;




The Follow Up


Once I received my positive beta numbers I was sent into a tizzy with the next steps I needed to manage. After speaking with my clinic, the nurse advised me that I needed to get in for my next beta (that she couldn’t send me for), as well as a 7 week ultrasound (which she couldn’t book for me). My clinic has had their hand slapped by Big Brother (the Governmental overseeing body) and is no longer allowed to do any prenatal monitoring as they are specifically a fertility clinic and not an OB/GYN. So, the clinic advised me to contact my family doctor to order my next beta and arrange an ultrasound.

I don’t like my family doctor (she was very flippant and dismissive when I came to her after a year of trying to conceive), plus she only works 2 days a week and her location is no longer convenient to me as she is in a suburb of the city I currently live in (I used to live in said ‘burb, funny how I moved out of the ‘burbs and into the city to start a family). I don’t trust her to give me the care and attention I crave, since being under the watchful eye of the clinic. I’ll admit my fertility clinic is far from perfect but I know the people, the routines, what is expected of me and what I can expect from them. All of this prenatal stuff is new to me, and I’m struggling. My GP is away until Jan. 6 and her office was unwilling to help me, so I went to a walk in clinic.

A walk in clinic at Christmas time (well anytime really) is never a place I want to be spending my evening, because I know I will be trapped there for hours of unending boredom. I wasn’t wrong about that as I endured listening to the most odd couple pair of nurses manning the counter for 2 hours, before I finally got moved to an exam room, where I sat for another half hour. I feel badly for the doctors in walk in clinics. Most people are not super happy after they’ve been left to wait for several hours while generally feeling unwell so I tried to be patient.

When he finally came in, he asked what he could do for me. I explained that I was newly pregnant as a result of IVF and my clinic needed to pass me off to a doctor, but that I didn’t have one to be passed off to. I told him my clinic wanted me to have another beta done, and that I needed to be referred to an OB. There was supposed to be a fax sent to the walk in clinic with instructions from my clinic but there was some confusion and it went to the wrong clinic (that was my fault) and the clinic it went to shredded it, so I couldn’t even get it forwarded to the correct place. So I did my best to just ask for what I thought I needed. Once the doctor grasped my convoluted situation, he offered his congratulations, took my blood pressure, and checked my throat and lungs. He offered me some pearls of wisdom for pregnancy including (but not limited to); “no crazy sex, try to avoid potholes (so as not to jolt myself too hard), no heavy lifting, and don’t let myself get too physically or mentally exhausted”. Thank you for the vague, generic advice…

Afterwards he ushered me into his office to ask about my medical history, get me a bunch of requisitions and refer me to an OB. As he began filling out my medical history, he asked “why I had to do IVF, as I’m only 27” (his words). I gave him a sort of vague answer, concerns on my husband’s side of things. He asked how long we tried before IVF and I told him a little over a year naturally, then 3 IUI’s then IVF. He then asked me what an IUI was, I am not shitting you. I answered his questions, he gave me a requisition for an early pregnancy work up, my next beta, an ultrasound and a referral to an OB. Not only that, he asked me if there was an OB in particular that I wanted. Seeing as I had just spent two hours sitting in a waiting room, of course I had done some searching on rate my MD. The doctor I chose didn’t have the highest ratings, but she is at the same hospital as my clinic (which I very much wanted) and a lot of complaints with the doctor actually had to do with her staff so I think it will be fine. I appreciate that he gave me a choice.

I spoke to my clinic the day after I went to the walk in clinic and told her what transpired, and that I just asked the doctor for everything I needed and got him to refer me to an OB. She told me I did so good, not having had any of the paperwork from the clinic with me, so I’m glad that all worked out. She advised me to do my beta next week to see that it is over 1000, rather than just checking to see if it was doubling (since I only had the one requisition for another beta). She told me to book my ultrasound for the week of Jan. 11, we get home from Hawaii on Jan. 13 so I will have to miss a bit of work right after returning from holidays, but I don’t care. Though the clinic can’t monitor me anymore, the nurse is sending me a requisition for my nuchal translucency testing to complete between weeks 11 – 13 and referring it back to my OB (now that I have one). She told me I can stop progesterone at 10 weeks, but I am hoping I can see my OB before then so I can chat to the doctor about it, as I don’t want to just stop on my own.

The whole situation is still so surreal. Having a conversation with the walk in clinic doctor about my pregnancy just seemed so far-fetched. I toggle between trying not to get too excited, and my mind being blown. I feel a little like I am back in that naive spot of when I first started TTC. I’m a pro at infertility now, but I don’t know how to handle this whole pregnancy situation. J is so so excited. I sort of want him to take the enthusiasm down a notch, but really, can I blame him? I’m terrified of something bad happening, but if I try to remain stoic, is it really going to hurt any less if something does go wrong? If this had happened naturally I would have thrown myself into pregnancy books, and researching everything I could right from day one, but now I am hesitant and reserved. I will probably wait until at least having our 7 week ultrasound before I do much of anything. No sense in getting ahead of myself. I am going to enjoy this time, but take it day by day.

And on that note, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

My Dirty Little Secret


This is probably something I shouldn’t admit on a blog about trying to have a child. But I don’t like kids. Not really anyways. I mean I love my neices, and my friends kids, but do I want to spend a lot of time with them? Not particularly. Stay with me I promise I’m going somewhere with this.

There was a point in my life that I questioned if I even wanted kids (in the not-so-distant past). J and I weren’t ready to start trying yet, but we always made mention of our future child/children and it got me thinking; do I want kids, or is it just what’s been ingrained into me? Was I just following the traditional order of things, that’s what you do, grow up, get married, have children? I had never stopped to question it until it was bearing down on me. But after giving it a lot of thought, I felt like I would always regret it if I didn’t have a child/children, and J is my perfect man, and I want HIS child/children.

Even still, creating another life, one that you are responsible for and will change you forever is a big and scary thing, so for the first few months of trying, when I would get a negative test or my period would arrive I would have a slight sigh of relief (along with annoyance and frustration). It’s funny how you can want something, but also be scared to have it. After several months of trying though, it made me realise how deeply I do want a child. It has made me hyper aware of moms and moms-to-be and I’m jealous that they have what I want. The sigh of relief has completely faded and the dissapointment grows with each failed cycle.

But back to the fact that I am not a “kid person”. This was another reason I wasn’t really sure I should have kids. How can you want kids, yet not like them? Well, the way I see it, is I just am not a huge fan of other people’s kids. I know I will love and adore my own child/children. How do I know? Well let me tell you a little story, that made me understand a mother’s love.

I have two dogs (I know, I know, before you roll your eyes, I realise dogs are not children) that are my fur babies. Growing up I had a cat, who I loved to death, and I never really was a dog person. The year J and I started dating, him and his brother (who lived together at the time) got a dog. A little, adorable white furball of a thing. He was very cute, and fairly mild mannered so I didn’t mind him, but he wasn’t my dog. Even when J’s brother moved away and left the dog with J and I he still wasn’t really my dog (even though, technically he was now). His master was J (even though we both took care of him) and that’s who he loved the most.

When I still lived at home, my first beloved kitty had to be put down, but my mom and I hated having an empty house with no kitty, so I adopted another (grown) cat. Shortly thereafter I moved in with J and had to leave the cat behind because J is deathly allergic. I had always wanted to get another cat, but with J’s allergies I had to face facts that that wasn’t going to happen. So if I couldn’t have a cat I decided I was going to get myself a little cat-like dog. So after doing tons of research on different breeds, I threw caution to the wind and we adopted a rescue dog of unknown origins. He was just a little guy, but he was only 4 months so we figured he’d get a little bigger, but still small enough to be a lap dog.

Turns out his paperwork was wrong, and he was 9 months old, and fully grown at 9 lbs. This time I truly felt like he was my dog; I had to interview to get him (that’s right folks, I had to submit to a character interview for a dog, yet every day idiots get pregnant by accident). I got to pick his name (well, I changed it from what the rescue society had named him), his bed, his toys, and him. He’s really cute, but a bit funny looking from his mixed breeds (whatever he is). A face only a mother could love, says my mom. Though lots of other people think he’s cute too. His personality wins everyone over (now do I sound like a mom or what!?). We’ve had him for a little over two years now and I could not love the little guy more. He is my baby and I would do anything for him.

But the thing is, I’m still not really a dog person. I am definitely more tolerable of them, and I do think a lot of them are super adorable, but I mostly just like my dog. Dogs are a pretty big responsibility, he is a lot of work, and sometimes he pisses me off but I still love him more everyday. As silly as this sounds it made me realise that if I love a dog this much, I can’t even imagine how it would feel to have my own little person. I think my heart could burst.

So I have my fur babies, and J and I love them dearly, but I still have more love to give.  The thought of parenthood still freaks me out (but seriously, who isn’t nervous for that kind of responsiblity?) but do I want it wholeheartedly? Heck yes. So bring it on Universe. I’m waiting…!

*I use child/children because at this point we might have to stop at just one. If we’re even so lucky.


*This is not me, but I figured the photo capture my sentiment perfectly.

Pulling Out All the Stops


Today I did something that I would have previously never considered. It’s something a lot of people have done, and do. Infertility or no, it’s growing in popularity. I am a very analytical person, I like facts, figures, science. I do not have a spiritual side, I am not religious. So this went against my nature, but more and more there have been stats to back the results of acupuncture. I know, I know, tons of people do it. It’s no big deal!

I have never delved into any Eastern medicine, even during this journey of infertility. Not that acupuncture is the same as strange herbs, or tea made with who-knows-what, but still. I probably should have been on this sooner, but I just recently got added to J’s benefit plan through work that covers things like, fertility drugs (but not treatment, figure that one out), massage, and acupuncture (among other things, lucky I know). So I figured I may as well take advantage of said benefits. I’ve read things about acupuncture being good for fertility and being used as a complement to IUI, so I figured why not. It can’t hurt, right?

Well, no it doesn’t. Not really. It was a very weird feeling, the needles going in was just a little tap and poke. There were a couple that were a bit uncomfortable, and I have a funny teeny little bruise on my collar bone, but otherwise it was just…strange. It’s hard to describe, but it felt like the area around the needle was being drawn in. As if the needle was a magnet, and my skin magnetic. It was very odd. I had one in my forehead, right between my eyebrows and it made me feel like I was permanently furrowing my eyebrows. There was also one in the top of my head, that at one point she turned. Ewww, that was a gross feeling. It still felt a bit hippy-dippy, like the acupuncturist was talking about my energies, and the yin and yang of my cycle. All sounded a bit hocus pocus to me, but I can’t say it felt like nothing. So that’s something.

Despite the fact that I wasn’t totally sold on it, I did book another appointment for next week. I also have a massage booked the same day, as well as yoga every Sunday. Yoga is more just because I enjoy it, but again, I don’t really connect with the spiritual side of it. Luckily I do it at a community rec centre, not a yoga studio, so there is no incense, or super hardcore yogis. Just regular folk getting’ their yoga on.

I do have to add a side note that the place I went for my acupuncture listed fertility acupuncture on their website, as well as pregnancy acupuncture. Because they are a spa/boutique for mommies to be. So it was real fun when I walked in to be greeted with maternity photos, and all sorts of pregnancy and baby related goods. I sooo felt like I didn’t belong. Thank goodness the receptionist didn’t ask me if I was pregnant. Maybe they just assume that. But it seemed like a decent place, it’s close to my house, and the prices are decent. Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to go there as a pregnant woman for some spa time, or a massage or something.

I’ve tried a lot of silly things to help aide my fertility in the past; I’ve done the prop your butt up with a pillow, I’ve drank the green tea, I’ve eaten the pineapple, I’ve taken the Mucinex, I chart my BBT, I take an assortment of supplements (and J does as well). I just last night opened a new bottle of prenatal vitamins. So I’ve been pregnant zero times, yet I’m on my 5th bottle of these suckers. There are 100 in each bottle. So by now I must be, like super healthy or something. Right?

We don’t have a lot of time left before our next IUI so I don’t know if this will make any difference, but we also don’t have a lot of time left on our self-imposed timeline. So I’m pulling out all the stops.


Anonymity & Infertility


Hello out there! I was surprised at how quickly I already gained a few followers, and had some comments on my very first blog post. I had a cooking blog at one point as well, and lemme tell ya, it did not get a lot of traffic. So thanks for those stopping by!

I feel like for the next little while I might be posting (or trying to) everyday, as I’ve had a lot bottled up lately and it’s bursting forward! One of the things I’ve been giving a lot of thought to lately is coming out of the infertility closet. I have a very select few people that even know we are TTC, and I have intentionally kept it that way.

I am a very private person, and this is a very private matter. I did not even want to tell anyone when we started TTC (just in case it took longer, plus I don’t like people thinking about my sex life). I must have some sort of psychic powers, that I saw that one coming. I told my best friend, well, because I tell her everything. We got married the same year, she had her first baby in August 2012 and I lived vicariously through her TTC journey. So she knew the day I threw out the birth control. At that point it was just her (outside of myself and J) that knew, and I liked it that way.

J told his younger brother at some point. His bro and his bro’s wife had their first in Aug. 2011 and were trying for another around the same time, or a little earlier than we had started TTC. J’s brother is a Dr. (in a totally unrelated field, I might add) and had previously succeeded in making children so I think J was maybe looking for some guidance. I was slightly annoyed, but I figured J needed someone to talk to besides me, so fine.

He also told his mother, which I was not as cool with. She was very into her first and only grandchild (my niece) at the time and voiced her wish to have more. Frequently. So when we started looking into why we weren’t pregnant after a year, MIL was privvy to this as well, but it did stop her asking questions, as I think she felt bad for prying before, now that we were having problems. Fine by me. I had actually said as much to a friend, that what if when we started trying we had problems, then wouldn’t she feel bad. Well, yes I’m sure she does. But not as bad as me.

I know J keeps his mom somewhat updated on our process which does bug me, because the only reason my mom even knows that we’re trying/having issues is that I pinned something infertility related on Pinterest and it shared it to my Facebook account (I didn’t really know how to use Pinterest properly at the time, and promptly unlinked the two accounts when my mom mentioned it.). She asked me about it, and I gave her the synopsis. I told her it is upsetting to me, and I don’t like to talk about it, and for the most part she leaves it alone. I know it kills her as I am her only child and she would love grandchildren, but I am thankful that she knows how I am and she does not ask questions unless I am volunteering information (which is rare).

I am not ashamed of the fact that we need help. But I do not offer any information up to people because I don’t need anyone else besides J and I waiting with bated breath to see if this month, is THE month. It is a personal, physically and emotionally difficult, and private process. But, at the same time, I wish people knew so they would stop asking.

Asking when we’re going to have kids, asking how many kids, asking why we don’t have kids yet. It’s getting tiresome. Apparently if you’ve been married for more than 5 minutes you are supposed to be procreating. We purposely didn’t get pregnant for the first 2-ish years of our marriage. We had time (we thought), we didn’t want to rush, we just wanted to enjoy life with eachother. We have done a lot of travelling, we’ve lived in Australia (albeit for a short amount of time) and enjoyed the child-free lifestyle.

I have a friend who like to ask, and pester as to when we’re going to have kids. She is a very sweet person, so I don’t want to be super harsh and say something snarky the next time she asks. I’ve debated sending her a private FB message, so not to embarrass her out in public, or in front of other people but that just seems like a cop out. She just recently (this weekend) was giving me a hard time, in front of a bunch of J’s family members. Luckily I had my mouth full, so I just gave her a tight smile and kept my mouth shut.

I also have to mention that she is a Fertile Myrtle. She has a 2 1/2 yr old, an 11 month old and is currently 5 months pregnant. That last one was an oopsie. When she told me, I instinctivley shrieked, “What?!”. Way to play it cool. But it was a surprise to her, and me, so it wasn’t totally uncalled for. With all three of her pregnancies she has conceived very quickly and easily, so she is the last person who I would expect to understand infertility.

Eventually I would like to be open to people about our struggles (preferably once we are safely pregnant, and not still in the throes of treatment), I just don’t know how to go about it. Facebook seems like a good medium, but sort of impersonal and a bit of an overshare. I don’t like to post a lot of personal type stuff on Facebook, so I’m torn. That is the main reason this blog is fairly anonymous, I’m not quite ready to sing it from the mountaintops. I think if someone knew me, and stumbled on it, they would figure it out pretty fast, but so be it. If they got here, and read all of this, somehow I would have less of a problem with them knowing.

How have any of you come out about your infertility struggles? Or are you still hiding? What’s life like out in the open? Once we are pregnant (if that happens) and announcing it to others I really would like to let them know what it took, so that they don’t just assume I’m a normal fertile. At the same time, I know J might be uncomfortable with this.

But, if us infertiles don’t try and educate the masses, or at least set them straight when they’re being douche-y, then who will?