Happy Thanksgiving!

I hope you all have had a wonderful, safe holiday!!

Doubt

A while back, when I first started to read infertility blogs and began to suspect that something was wrong with me, I read Jen's blog at Maybe if You Just Relax and almost peed my pants because that girl is hilarious. If you haven't read her blog before, and need a good laugh, please visit her - she's good times.

There is one post that resonated with me in those first few weeks. I don't know where it is now, or even how it was worded, but Jen said something along the lines of this:

Trying for a few months is better than:

A few rounds of clomid is better than:

A few rounds of IUI is better than:

A few rounds of IVF . . .

There was more to her post about the varying degrees of infertility and how they "rank", and I don't think that she meant it to offend or belittle those of us who haven't had to go all the way with IVF or other means of AR, but reading her opinion and knowing what she's been through made me feel like maybe I was overreacting. An infertility "poser", if you will.

I know that was not her intent, and this isn't a post about Maybe If You Just Relax. That poor woman has her share of nasty commenters and I certainly am not one of them. She busted her ass to get to where she is now and I'm not faulting her for opinion or ideas or anything. My feelings of doubt over my fertility status are purely my own. More often than not though, I feel like others think that I am making a bigger deal out of this than I should. Hell, in the beginning I thought that maybe I was making a mountain out of a mole hill. We had only tried for about a yearish, and even then, I thought maybe we weren't really really trying.

Then came charting and no baby.

Then came Dr. H and her "who cares?" attitude.

Then came clomid and still no baby. I'm pretty certain at this point that my issues are a little bigger than a mole hill.

Still, I feel like the people I know in real life think I'm being over dramatic when I talk about this. Mr. Joe tells me I need to relax on a regular basis. He's talked to Dr. Foreign Accent with me. He heard him say that he doesn't think we can do this on our own - and yet!! He tells me to just relax, a phrase which invokes the exact opposite in me. I worry that no one will take me seriously if I share my feelings of jealousy or depression or anger over what continues to elude me. The fact of the matter is, I'm not ill. I'm not dying. But truthfully, in those times when I don't recognize myself, I feel like I am.

I realized today that even though I haven't had to inject myself with all kinds of crap and I haven't moved on to IUI, I am infertile. I have infertility. I cry instead of rejoice at other people's announcements. My eyes dart away when I see a growing belly. I have a deep, aching desire to have a child and make my husband a father. It may not be like cancer, but the thoughts push through my mind like long tendrils of a tumor. It wraps around my lungs and steals my breath when I start to plan for the future. It manifests itself in my obsessive counting of days, my reluctance to plan vacations or outings for fear that I might be pregnant. It is an illness. And I am suffering from it. It has changed who I am - for better or for worse.

I don't want to be that person that gets all righteous and soapboxy with infertility as my "cause". We all have our crosses to bear. For some of us, it's an obvious hardship - poverty, disability, cancer. For others, it's more of a silent epidemic. I still don't plan on being obnoxious when I go to baby showers, or share with Mrs. B that I feel betrayed that the baby phone tree was activated without me. I know that those feelings and actions are irrational and unfair, no matter how badly I want to express them. I simply mean that I am no longer going to doubt myself.

This is my cross to bear. It's not in my head and I'm not being dramatic (well . . . .maybe a little dramatic, but that's only because I am a drama queen by nature). This shit sucks and even if there really is some hierarchy of infertility: IVF over IUI over injections over clomid over several months ttc over one month ttc over drunken accident over The Virgin Mary, I don't care. The feelings are the same. The longing and uncertainty over the future don't hurt any less for those of us who have never seen an RE in comparison to those of us who have practically shown the mailman their lady parts. So if you are a lurker like I once was, reading these posts and thinking that you have no business expressing your feelings because you haven't even mentioned infertility testing to your OB yet, please know that you have just as much right as I do. Don't add doubt to the pile of emotions that you are already feeling. It's only going to delay you. We need to roundhouse kick doubt in the face.

Which is precisely what I plan on doing to my husband the next time he tells me I need to relax.

McFatty Monday

Seeing as my girl Krista has to abandon McFatty Monday, I thought I would start up again - carry the torch so to speak. I've been following along with everyone's MM posts, just not posting one of my own.

So far, P90X is going along fine. I fell right back in, but I think I am going to repeat phase one because I was definitely phoning it in the first two weeks. I am slowly losing weight again, and I'm thinking about doing C25K with Mr. Joe. That makes three times I have mentioned running the C25K program and zero times I have actually done it. This time though guys - I mean business.

Another huge part of my weight loss - or lack thereof - is my eating habits. Both Mr. Joe and I suck at eating healthy. I have been trying to remedy that, but it's slow going. In my recent efforts to distract myself from babymaking, I have been becoming more domestic - I have cleaned and organized almost every closet in the house, our room is spotless and orderly (we live like adults now instead of frat boys!), I have taken over all laundry and cleaning detail, too. I have even been baking cookies, which those of you who know me irl know that it is no small feat to get me to create something that is edible. One time, I tried to make a peanut sauce and basically ended up eating peanut butter covered noodles for 3 days straight because I refuse to throw food out. EWWWW.

Anyway, I didn't mean to get off on a tangent, but my point is this: the next phase of my domestication is going to involve cooking dinner, and making lists and meal plans and all of that happy horseshit. Do any of you do this? What goes into planning out meals - and sticking to that plan? I'm looking for your expert McFatty advice. Hope everyone has a great week!

"The Phone Tree" or "How Ignorant I Once Was"

Once upon a time, Mrs. Joe was an ignorant moron. She formed a club with the girlfriends of her husband's friends and called it The Wives Club. The Wives Club had big plans. They would all be married. They would all live in the southern part of the state. They would all have children around the same age. Life was to be glorious for The Wives Club. There was nothing but rainbows and unicorns on the horizon of their lives.

One day, Mr. and Mrs. Joe came to the sad realization that they could not live in the southern part of the state with the rest of their friends. Their jobs required that they live in the lamest place on Earth. Begrudgingly, they moved into a shack there and continued on their way. So what if they were far away? They could still keep up with the other plans! What could The Wives Club do to make sure that their children were born around the same time?

Thus, the Baby Phone Tree was born! The idea was simple: Mrs. Joe was the first to be married, so she would be the first to get pregnant. She would call Mrs. B, who would then get knocked up herself. Mrs. B would then call Mrs. M; Mrs. M would get pregnant as well and then TaDAAAAA! Everyone is pregnant! A genius plan - because Mrs. Joe was a genius.

With plan in place, Mr. and Mrs. Joe got busy. They tried and tried and tried, but to no avail. "It's ok" Mrs. B said, "Mr. B and I will take our time, too." Comforted, Mrs. Joe continued to try and trick the universe into giving her a baby. Each time, she would fall short. "Go away!" The universe would bellow, "I can't be bothered with your petty requests!"

One night, while Mr. and Mrs. Joe lay quietly in bed, Mr. Joe reached for his wife's hand.

"Have you talked about things with Mrs. B?" he asked.

"What do you mean by 'things'?"

Mr. Joe turned to her, and she knew what "things" meant before Mr. Joe had to explain.

The Phone Tree had been activated without her.

The post where I ask rhetorical questions . . .

Why does bad shit happen?

Do any of you read Life and Love in the Petri Dish? I'm sorta a lurker on her blog. Recently, they found out they were pregnant for the 6th time. These people have had to go through hell and back. Mo is a cancer survivor, and together she and Will have suffered through 6 miscarriages, the most recent occurring only yesterday. SIX - I can't even imagine. My heart breaks for them.

I know that I'm not very vocal about my faith on here, and to be honest, I'm not very vocal in the real world either. I believe in God and I pray regularly for my friends and family and you (yes you!). When tragedy like this occurs though, I don't know how to explain it. I know there were many who were praying for Mo and Will - all six times - and yet . . .

I realize God is not a magic genie (like Finn thought grilled cheesus was on Glee) and that the "answer" to prayer may be no, but then what is the point of praying? What would it take for Mo and Will or you or me or anyone to have the situation work out in their favor? More people praying? More good deeds? Is a "no" punishment for something they or you or I've done?

There are times when I look at the life that I have, and despite everything - the loss of my brother, my lack of children, our financial struggles - I have faith that I am loved and that He is providing what I need. But there are also times when I start another cycle or when I see another pregnancy announcement and that faith falters. Or I wonder what I have done to warrant this set of circumstances. I did it when my brother was ill and when he passed away. Why did he have to die while countless others beat cancer? Why do Mr. Joe's asshole cousins get to crank out kids that they can't afford and don't take care of when we've been trying for what feels like an eternity? What can I do to atone for the sins I'm being punished for?

I wish there was some way of finding concrete answers to my questions, but I suppose that's what makes faith what it is - confidence in the unseen and unknown. Belief that a promise made will be kept. Easier said than done.

Here I am.

No one has asked where I've gone, but I thought I would check in anyway :-)

First up: P90X is kicking my ass. More so than the first time. I think this is because I remember where I was when I left off, and I feel like I've gone so far from that place when I can't do the same number of reps or minutes or whatever. I've been sorta phoning it in at times, but at least I'm doing it.

Next: Remember the wedding I mentioned a few posts back where I was worried there would be a fight? Well, we made it through the whole night fight free . . . until we were packing up to leave. One of the nasty wenches on the dark side pushed one of Mr. Joe's aunts and then a fight for her honor ensued. Thankfully, my lack of Clomid rage prevented me from beating anyone with my hammy arms. Instead, I took on the role of smoother outer and attempted to console the bride with Mr. Joe. Poor thing. Let's just say the groom's family now has a distinct impression of us.

My little projects around the house are going well. I have completely reorganized our bedroom, the laundry room, painted the living room. I'm saving our spare room for last, since that room holds the double whammy of being the catch all for my brother's stuff and the room we would make a nursery. Cleaning it out will be difficult - so it will probably stay messy for a while. Whatever. It feels very liberating to get things in order and keep them that way. Before, I was terrified that people would drop in unexpectedly and judge our sloppiness. Now, they won't get the chance. So take that judgey mcjudgersons!

All in all, this "break" is going well, but I still have botb all day long. Will that ever go away?