Bumper stickers are speaking to us, if we just listen

I am pretty sure when this woman slapped this up on her SUV she wasnt thinking of The Fertically Challenged.

Read it, my loves, and rev up them uteri!

This is my first Wordless Wednesday.  I know it is Tuesday and I am not wordless.  I promise to honor The Code of Wordlessness next week.

Tidbits to help our cycle

I had my first session with a new acupuncturist.  I adore her.

She is an IVF veteran with three adopted children.  She hasn't shared her whole story with me yet.  I cannot wait to hear it.  I want to be more like her, all peaceful and shit.

This is probably old news to most folks, but it was new to me, so it might be worth sharing:

1. Husbands: get your cell phones out of your pockets.  Protect your business from all heat, even an iPhone.
   
   
2. Eat local.  I have heard this promoted to be green, but never applied to women who have a uterus in need.  She really raved about this one.  I almost ate the lawn when I got home, she had me so motivated.
   
   
3. Probiotics.  Chow some of these down from the health food store, then maintain with Kefir or the likes.  I plan to pick it up tomorrow from the health food shop.  I will let you know if I learn any more goodies.

Estrogen priming going well, I guess.  I have an ancient estrogen patch on my belly that is to remain until it falls off.  I don't need to tell you it is getting a little funky looking.  I take extra care in the shower trying to protect it.  It is my little talisman.
 

Mad ravings and I am not even on Lupron

UPDATE:

I don't know what to say.  I censored myself.  Like an old fashioned communist country.  I posted this in the AM and took it down by lunch.  I cant really explain why I did it.  Been a monkey on my back all damn day.

Is there such a thing as being too negative?  Let me acknowledge people out there have some serious shit going down and I am whining about the joy of (someone else's) pregnancy?  How pathetic is this?

WTF has happened to me?

Read this with a grain of salt.  I think I can make it back to normal in a couple days.  For now, I am a negative MF.

Thank you to the Sisters of Lupron who called me out on it and asked WTF happened to my post.


THE FOLLOWING IS THE ORIGINAL BITTER POST I WAS ASHAMED TO LEAVE UP WHEN REAL PROBLEMS ARE HAPPENING ALL AROUND US BUT I CRY IN MY O'DOULS:

Uh, so about last week.  What a pissy fit I threw, huh?  

Your responses were like salve to the soul.  Each one made me feel about 900 times better.  Hell, I read them again today (ok, every day this week).  Thank you.

But I have a little more bitterness to expel before I can move back to regularly scheduled programming.

You know what I dread?  The following:

• "Should we find out if it is a boy or a girl?" drama

• "I am so fat!" bitch sessions

• The "What is child birth going to be like?" freak out

• "Let's talk about names!" inane chatter

• The "Let me tell you what random fetus function is developing this week!" heart wrencher
  (this is likely the most painful and apt to cause breakdown in office)

• .... got any other good ones I missed?

I should add a disclaimer.  If any fertically challenged woman wants to have this discussion with me, I could talk for days.  For my pregnant sisters reading this; no shit, call me.  I adore these subjects 99.99% of the time.

For some reason it is THIS pregnancy that makes it painful.  I sort of feel a little betrayed by her.  She knows all about my recent miscarriage.  She knows about our multiple ART encounters.  She knows we cant just up and have a baby like she did, despite chasing one with everything we have got in us.  Shit, she even knows more about the Dark Ages than you guys do!  This reason is why it really fucking hurts.

I sort of feel like I was her unintentional science experiment.  She was on a anthropological fact finding mission. "Let me learn of these things called Infertiles.  Let me understand their strange ways."  Checking out the shitsville shanty town my uterus lives in.  Now she can boast of her tolerant ways and say to other Fertiles, "I have an infertile friend.  They are people too.  She hurts, just like a real woman does." 

It is going to be a long 8 months.

You know just one of the things I will never do?

I will never hand my ultrasound picture to someone when I am 10 wks pregnant.

And expect delight.

Especially when I know she is recently recovered from a miscarriage.  And did fertility treatments.

I will never fucking do that.

Dont ask me if I know what that little fuzzy black picture is.  Of course I do you callous fucking fertile.

I hate Pandora.  It is like a bad sound track to my life.

Cry at my desk.

Guess who had the Big O after all?

...this Old Momma.  Welcome to My Ovulation Celebration.

Great news.  Looks like we are a go for this Last-Chance-with-My-Eggs Fertility Fest.

Would you like to hear my theme song?

(You gotta change the words to "Ovulation! Ovulation!") 

I wish I knew how to edit a music file to just the verse.  I have been singing it for days.

Most women POAS to track ovulation.  It costs about $15.  Not me.  I was sloppy with the POAS.  I might have done it wrong, read it wrong, something wrong.  It never showed me ovulating. A couple visits to the Large Fertility Operation and +$500 later, ovulation confirmed.  Sigh.

Friend courtship

I might be getting a new friend.  It is kind of exciting.  It is a parent from school.  (My 13 month old daughter goes to school, not day care.  This helps me immensely with the pain of not being home with her.)

It is hard making new friends when you get older.  Maybe it is just me.  I used to have a load of friends and ran a little wild.  I used to be fairly hard core.  I have long since cleaned up my ways and the friends dropped off a few at a time.  All for the best.  

Then came husband, then came Dark Ages, then came another husband, then came baby.  I have reinvented myself on accident many times during all of these phases.  I treasure my old friends, but old friends aren't always so easily accessible in the day to day.  I migrated through a lot of every day face to face friends.  Your single friends can fade somewhat with marriage and they sure don't get the baby scene.

TMI?  Probably, but I cannot see you squirming uncomfortably in your seat, so I will carry on.

You know how you kind of chat it up with a new person; determine you might share the same sense of humor; have the same pace of life.  You start to look for that person.  She loves my baby.  Calls her a "Pottery Barn baby".  Of COURSE I like her.  

The latest episode of courtship started innocently enough.  She actually said I looked thinner.  Again, of COURSE I like her.  I have dressed like shit ever since the IF drama began.  I should have gotten the heads up when she tells me I usually wear bigger clothes.  I decide not to tell her a miscarriage really helps a girl with her figure.  We got to talking and it turns out she is trying for a sibling for her son. 

Somehow, it comes out we are trying as well.  I forget she is of The Fertile.  This is a fatal mistake.  She cries, "Oh, what fun!  We could do this together!"

Fuck.

So much for that budding friendship.

Friends tend to change with each new chapter of your life.  I am delighted to have a lot of old friends, the most valuable kind - from grade school, high school and college.  But I adore new friends.  No one gets your present like they do.  New friends turn into old.

Thank you, ladies.  Unloading here makes my load a little lighter every time.  Here is to all my sisters with a different set of clothes for every cycle.  Regular, large, and larger still.

Here is to the next BFP for all of us.

Bring on the next round of IVF... what else are we going to do this summer?

Every time I thought about waiting a month or so, I had this faint unrest.  I dont know.  I just felt this little pull.

Cycle on Old Momma, cycle on.

I have been POAS since mid last week to watch for the ovulation surge.  In the manner of most POAS tests I take, the bitch has been negative all weekend.

Hmm.  Crap.  Maybe this show is over.  Mother father.

Maybe the little voice, that I liked to pretend was the spirit of my unborn child, urging me on was really the cracked and hoarse voice of my fading ovaries.   A gentle voice whispering in my ear, "your ass isn't getting any younger".

I am oddly ok with this.  Someone get me a fine young 20-something who can crank me out 30+ eggs.  

I am probably getting ahead of myself.  My RE tells me over and over we aren't at the donor stage yet.  

I am a little afraid of my eggs.  There is just so much to say about it, but I just dont know if I can do it.  Does it make it real if I talk about it?  Does it tempt fate and those fucking faeries?  Dont even get me started about 'God's plan'.

Holy shit, I am going to get struck by lighting.