The Valentine's Day Gift From Hell

I'm tired of writing about infertility and my pregnancy. I'm sure you're tired of hearing about it. So, instead, let's focus on the upcoming holiday. You know, the one where Cupid is shooting arrows at people and blah blah blah. 

Does Valentine's Day make you feel nauseated? I have a cure. Laughter. And I promise I can make you laugh by sharing the WORST VALENTINE'S DAY I EVER HAD.

Seriously, I've had some rough ones over the years, but this one I'm about to tell you about takes the cake (or heart-shaped cookie). I had a boyfriend before Hubs who was a hot mess. We dated for close to 8 years and it was known throughout the land that he was the worst gift giver ever. But that year. That one year, he truly outdid himself. Want to hear the story? You will laugh, I promise you.

Here goes:

During my sophomore year of college, Ex and I were in our 2nd year of dating bliss together. Or something like that. We had shared two years of birthdays, two Christmases, two Valentine's Days, and I never missed one occasion. He missed all but one.

In fairness, on one of my birthday's he did show up with a card and say, "All right! Let's go find you a gift!" But that doesn't count, kids. Everyone knows this.

So...it's February of 2001. I'm living in the same dorm as the Ex. He's on the 4th floor, I'm on the 9th. We see each other whenever he feels like it and I basically spend most of my time holed up in my room looking at photographs of us, hoping the phone will ring. One day, I meet Ex in his room so we can walk to class together. 

(Just walking, no hand holding, please. People can see us.)

I arrive in Ex's room, and he's still getting dressed. He asks me to please grab a sweater for him. I willingly oblige. The sweaters are piled on a shelf at the top of his closet. Just as I reach to select one, he says, "Oh wait!  Please, don't look behind my sweaters. Your Valentine's Day gift is up there!"

I almost die. Like, Rachel Zoe die. Because friends, we are still 9 DAYS from Valentine's Day. Yet he already has a gift? Granted, I've had mine finished since January 1, but for my boyfriend to ALREADY have my gift ready to go? This was going to be good. I try to hide my excitement, and outwardly pretended like I don't really care.  Inside, though, my brain is hosting a block party. I may or may not have written "Mrs. Ex Boyfriend" 4,000 times in my journal that night.

Ex and I eventually depart for class, but all I can think is: WHAT IS BEHIND THOSE SWEATERS?

The next 9 days are filled with these gift predictions:

•  Sweaters can't hold a lot of stuff, really.  It's got to be earrings. I'll take CZ if he says he loves me after I open them.

•  It's a diamond ring.  OH MY GOD, WE'RE GETTING ENGAGED. But he has no money. We're in college and living on ramen noodles and vodka.  Maybe his Dad lent him the money!!!  I love my future father-in-law!!! 

• Maybe it's a pair of those Abercrombie jeans he knows I can't afford but want so badly.  But he told me I need to lose a few pounds, so...no.

•   Maybe it's super tacky lingerie and crotchless panties. This is the most likely option.

Finally, February 14th arrives. Knowing I won't be able to wait until evening, I run down to Ex's room at 8:30 and demand my present. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE CANIHAVEIT CANIHAVEIT? Ex agrees and tells me to close my eyes and sit in his desk chair. Breathlessly I sit down and hold out my hands, eyes pinched shut.

I hear a thud. Then a rustling. Wait, is that a plastic sack?  Like a grocery sack? What the hell kind of gift comes in a grocery sack? Another thump, a shuffle. He coughs. OH my GOD, is he nervous???  Does this mean what I think it means? Because really, in the past three weeks things have been SO good with him.  He's told me he loved me twice without me asking. He's given me a kiss on the cheek between classes, and Thursday night at the bar he didn't hit on ONE girl.

This has got to mean something.

Suddenly an object with a decent amount of weight lands in my hands.  This something is too big to be a ring box, too small to be a pair of jeans.

"Aaaand, open!" Ex says with great enthusiasm.

I slowly open my eyes, not sure what I'm about to see.  I look into my hands - and immediately want to shut my eyes again.

No. This cannot be. This cannot be my gift.

"Well?  Do you love it?" he asks with genuine excitement.

"It's. I mean, it's a cactus, Ex," I say, my voice flat as a pancake.  "A cactus." I want to run away to Africa and never come home.

"Right!" he exclaims with gusto. "You know how I have my cactus collection here in my room?  I thought it'd be neat for you to start one in your room! And look, it's in a planter already! And it has the little plastic "Happy Valentine's Day" thing on it. It's ready to go and you don't have to water it much, so it'll be hard to kill."  

Ex would not be hard to kill. Or at least hospitalize. Ex rubs his hands together and is looking at me, expecting me to say something about the gift.

My mind instantly flashes back to our first Christmas together. I bought Ex a brand new watch that was way out of my price range. I had wrapped it with such care, anticipating the moment he would see it and be beside himself with happiness. On Christmas, he opened it and shrugged, then said, "Hmm. Do I need a watch?"  Thinking about this now, I kind of want to say, "Do I need a sharp, prickly plant that only grows in the DESERT?"

Slowly I turn the planter around in my hand and give it a hard look. The cactus itself isn't horrible looking.  In fact, it's relatively cute.  And I do sort of enjoy Ex's succulent collection in his dorm.  

But it's a cactus. Who gives their girlfriend of two years a CACTUS ON EFFING VALENTINE'S DAY? I realize I have in fact told Ex multiple times that I don't care for roses, but this is hardly what I meant. And then a thought crosses my mind so quickly, I can't quite grab it. A weird sensation comes over me, like I'm missing something that is glaringly obvious. I try to conjure the thought again, but it disappears into the back corner of my brain, like a dream that dissolves the moment you wake up.

"And wait!" Ex exclaims. "One more thing!" He is back over in the closet, rummaging on the floor. Thank God, maybe this is all a joke.

"I got you this, too!"  Ex plops a giant 24-pack of Dr. Pepper at my feet.

"I know how much you love Dr. Pepper, so I got you some,"  He looks like he is expecting a kiss. I sort of want to puke.

Bu then I look into his eyes and realize how excited he is, and I begin to feel bad. Pathetically I pick at the fuzzies on my sweater.  I mean, so it's a cactus. So what? No, he isn't the smoothest gift giver on campus. So he made a present boo-boo.  At least he finally bought me a Valentine's Day gift that...and then it happens again. The thought that floated through my mind ten seconds ago has managed to squirm it's way through again, coming through loud and clear.

Ex works at a grocery store. I heard a plastic grocery sack earlier when he was bringing me the gift. Ex has repeatedly bragged that his favorite thing to do is steal plants from his store's floral department because no one is working that section. In fact, it's a point of pride for him that nearly every cactus on his dorm shelf was "free niney-nine."

Which means he stole my gift. I'm not stupid.  My tacky, ridiculous, ugly CACTUS of a gift was SHOPLIFTED by my boyfriend.  He might have paid for the Dr. Pepper, which cost approximately $4.00.

I heave a huge sigh, and remember that it's supposed to be the thought that counts.  Except I don't believe any thought went into this gift. I've never shown any desire to own a cactus. Ever. And Ex loves Dr. Pepper as much as I do. This is a gift for him, not me. Never mind that upstairs in my dorm, Ex's Valentine's Day surprise is waiting. A hand-made painted box with 365 handwritten notes in it. 365 handwritten memories of our two years together. A box filled with memories for Ex to take out and read every morning for a year, just so he knows how much I love him.

And I get a fecking stolen, grocery store cactus.

My gift only cost $8.50 - but it took 18 hours to finish.  I decide then and there that tonight, after Ex gets off work, I'm going to give him my gift. I will lead by example. After tonight he will know what a TRUE gift from the heart is. He has to work until 9:00, and I'm too upset to argue. I kiss him and act grateful, and tell him that his gift is still to come.  Perhaps this Valentine's Day can still be saved.

Or not.

To be continued....

I'm pregnant...now what?

I spent a great many years wondering what it would be like to join the Pregnant Girls Club. I imagined the first time I saw a plus sign on that stupid pee stick. I envisioned telling our family and later, making some sort of cute announcement on social media or at least a card sharing our news with close friends. But that was really as far as I ever got. As an infertile, you never want to get too far down the road of a pregnancy fantasy, because you live in reality...a reality where a pregnancy may never happen. I never wanted to imagine what symptoms I'd encounter, or how hard being pregnant would be. I just wanted the pregnancy, and I'd deal with the rest as it came.

Well, the rest has officially arrived. 

(Before I continue, I want to say, I realize this started out as an infertility blog and is now sort of morphing into more of a pregnancy blog. I didn't plan for that to happen, and I want to be cognizant of my Twitter and bloggy friends who are still struggling with getting pregnant. So if I ever come off whiney (as I'm afraid I will in this blog), please feel free to skip reading the post. I won't be offended, I promise.

On the flip side, once you join the Pregnant Girls Club (and I so have never ending hope that you will), you may want to come back and read these posts, because I promise they will be relevant.)

So...here is my list of things I never thought about when I was struggling to get pregnant, but which are front and center now. Oy.

1. Pardon me while I sleep

Oh my heavens, the tiredness. And I thought being an infertile was exhausting. I basically wake up, take a shower, and then fall asleep with a curling iron in my hair. The other day at work, I almost fell asleep mid sentence in a conversation with a co-worker. I'm a lucky ducky in that I work from home a lot and can catch a quick cat nap one or twice during the day. How do 8-5 peeps do it? Good God.

2. Feed Me

At 8 weeks in, I'm starting to wonder just how much weight I'm going to gain because HOLY CRAP I'M HUNGRY. I'm not being vain, I'm seriously concerned here. All I want is crackers and cheese and mozzarella sticks. When does that "healthy intuition" start to kick in?

3. The fear

As an infertile, I lived in a constant state of mind-numbing fear. What if the IVF didn't work? What if it did? How are we going to come to grips with the fact that we can't get pregnant if it comes to that? I spent so much time worrying about not getting pregnant, that it never occurred to me that it might actually happen.

Basically I've traded one set of fears for a whole new set.

Front and center is, am I doing everything right? I mean, yesterday I forgot to take my progesterone insert. Could that cause something really bad? I basically sit awake and night and wait for the other shoe to drop and find out this isn't really happening after all. 

4. Do's and Dont's

Here's one thing I miss about infertility: the certainty of what you could and couldn't do. Caffeine? No. Booze? Forget it. Do you want IVF to work, Kim? Then you darn well better do these things and not do these things. Concrete, solid instructions.

With pregnancy, research is like jello. It moves around constantly depending on who you speak to. Some docs tell you sushi once a month is fine. Others tell you sushi will cause your baby to come out looking like a deranged octopus. My friend's doctor told her she can eat deli meat. My "What to Expect When You're Expecting" book says no way. Some articles say caffeine is awful. Other say it's fine. 

Infertile Kim is used to being told very clearly what she should or shouldn't do. Those days are long gone.

5. We accept credit cards

You all know know full well how much infertility costs. Well, that doesn't go away when you finally get pregnant. Doc visits, more blood work, prescriptions...it still goes on and on. Granted, more of it is covered by insurance (thank sweet baby Jesus), but it's still a constant depletion of funds. Don't get me wrong, we are happy to be paying for the baby to grow healthy rather than continuing to pay for the hope we can get one to grow. But it's still a shock.

6. That support you needed all along? It finally shows up.

Once we got pregnant and told those close family and friends who knew about our infertility struggle, I couldn't believe how supportive everyone suddenly got. People who wouldn't touch me with a ten foot pole all of a sudden were so very concerned with how I was doing, how I'm feeling, etc. Those that couldn't sit still for 10 minutes to hear about my uterine biopsy were constantly asking what's going on. WHERE WERE YOU FOR THE LAST 4 YEARS? The reality is, dealing with a pregnant person is much less risky than dealing with an infertile. Infertile's are volatile, moody, and in a constant state of flux. For pregnant women, we're still all those things, but your friend can always just throw out "OMG, you're having a baby!" if things get weird. You can't do that with an infertile. Blurg.

7. What in the holy feck is happening in there?

I'm lucky that I'm still relatively symptom free. Yes, I'm super tired and want to eat anything that begins with ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXY or Z, but I don't really feel pregnant. But still, occasionally I feel something and I'm all, "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" Apparently this will get much worse before it gets better. And there's no way to prepare for it. For example, I'll just be sitting there having lunch with a co-worker, talking about budgets for the year, and BAM, it feels like something lit my vagina on fire for 15 seconds or so. Try smiling through that one.

Or there will be a random cramp in my stomach that makes me go, "Oh damn, ow!" It makes for an interesting conversation with that co-worker since she has no idea I'm pregnant. My go-to excuse lately as been, "Gas. I get a little gas from time to time. Gas." (Yes, that was a Ghost reference.)

8. Can we just TELL already?

Here's the irony. You wait for 4 years to get pregnant, then it finally happens...and you can't tell anyone. It's torture. I want to shout it from the rooftops and write about it in a blog (heh heh). I just want everyone to know so they can stop speculating about why Kim is such a frickin' roller coaster of emotions lately. Does she need a Xanax?

In the meantime, I'm not showing, but I also don't look so amazing. I feel bloated and my boobs hurt (hello, progesterone), but I can't explain that to anyone because they just say, "yeah, that's called PMS. Get over it." 

Fun times.

I totally understand that I sound like the biggest party pooper in the world. My infertiles out there who aren't pregnant yet are like, "Get your shit together, Kim! You're pregnant. I would DIE to be pregnant." 

I totally get it. I was in the same boat a few weeks ago. I swore to any God who was listening that I would never complain about anything if I could just get pregnant. I made all sorts of promises that I basically broke the minute that stick said "pregnant". The truth is, there's just no way of knowing how it feels until it happens.

I am so immensely happy, while at the same time terrified and pissed off and nervous and tired and energized. On any given day, my mood swings are as predictable as a slot machine. 

****

To all my infertiles that are still praying for the day their pee stick shows good news, keep hanging in there. I haven't forgotten what it's like. I'm still there with you, hoping with you, and virtually holding your hand. Don't give up.

XOXO,

The Sisterhood of the World Bloggers Award

Well color me honored, I got nominated for a major award!!

(Okay, it may not be a major award, but I love "A Christmas Story," so I had to work that in.)

Little miss Kaeleigh over at the Unpregnant Chicken  has honored me with the "Sisterhood of the World" Bloggers award. This bloggie award honors unique voices of women bloggers around the world, and really, we could use more of those. I love blogging about the trials and tribulations of becoming knocked up and I'm always so happy when I hear that people a) read my shiz and b) think it's funny or informative. I appreciate anyone recognizing my attempts to be humorous, so Kaeleigh, thank you so much for the award and if I misspelled your name, it's because cut/paste didn't work properly.

So, here's how this whole thing goes:

• Thank the blogger who nominated you, linking back to their site. - DONE!
• Put the award logo on your blog. - DONE!
• Answer the ten questions the nominator has set you. - See below!
• Make up ten new questions for your nominees to answer. Nominate ten people. - Oh God, this is gonna be tough.

Here are the 10 questions that Kaeleigh thoughtfully asked. Hopefully they will give you a chance to get to know me even better than you thought you did before!

1. What is your favorite book or movie and why?

This is seriously impossible. My fave movie of all time is "Gone With the Wind" but I may or may not have watched "The Devil Wears Prada" 638 times. Just this year alone. Right now, my fave book is "Sharp Objects" from Gillian Flynn. But man, I sure did love "Yes Please" by Amy Poehler. This is what happens when you're in book club...you read a lot and love everything.

2. What did you want to be when you grew up?

Don't laugh, but I wanted to be someone who pumped gas into other people's cars. I love the smell of gasoline. And if that didn't work out, I wanted to iron clothes for people.

So...basically a maid.

3. Where would you travel if money was no object?

The more appropriate question is where wouldn't I travel? Ha. No, seriously, I want to go to Italy like nobody's business. I'm an interior designer by education and some of the most exquisite buildings in the world are in Italy. Or Europe in general.

4. What do you miss most about childhood?

I miss simplicity. Never worrying about if my cable bill was overdue or why I can't get pregnant after 9,000 tries. I miss waking up and my biggest worry being whether I would have peanut butter and jelly or bologna for lunch.

5. If you could have any fictional character for a pet who would it be?

DUH. I want the pig from "Babe." He can sing and talk!

6. Do you have any gross habits that you try to hide?

You guys, I am quite possibly the gassiest woman on the planet.

7. Coffee,hot chocolate or tea?

Tea all day.

8. What is your favorite thing about blogging?

I get to frame my reality. If I think the world is unfair, I get to make it unfair. if I think I'm amazing, I can be amazing. I am 100% uninhibited (part of that comes from being somewhat anonymous) and able to tell my truth from my point of view. And there are no deadlines. :-)

9. What is the craziest thing you’ve ever done?

IVF is up there. I never thought I would have gone that far to be a mom, but it's amazing what you find that you can and will do to fulfill a dream you've had for over 30 years.

10. Do you have any hobbies?

I'm a major book reader and i write freelance for a few local magazines. I am also a nail polish addict. Like...it's a problem. And blogging. That's a hobby, right? THE MOST AWESOME HOBBY OF ALL!

Now the hard part. I have to nominate 10 other people. Here we go:

Screw You Stork

Life as an Infertile

The Purple Guru

Infertility Goddess

Okay, that's only 4 and I know that's pathetic. I'm sorry -almost all the bloggers I wanted to pick have already been picked! I'm such an under achiever...sorry guys. So, you four that I chose, here are your 10 questions.

1. Who is your blog idol?

2. What song do you sing loudest in the shower?

3. What's your favorite curse word to yell at your ovaries?

4. You get to meet one of your favorite fictional characters. Who is it?

5. What do you think about when you need to smile?

6. If you could switch careers and be awesome at something other than what you currently do, what would it be?

7. What's your go-to "I didn't have time to do my hair" style?

8. Taylor Swift or Katy Perry? YOU HAVE TO PICK ONE. If you want to.

9. Would you rather legally change your last name to Hitler or never eat chocolate again?

10. On a scale of 1-10, how much do you love Benedict Cumberbatch? (If it's below 5, I don't know if we can be friends.)

Love you all!

XOXO,

The Pregnancy Symptoms Post: AKA I Didn't Have Any

I like to believe I'm a smart gal when it comes to my body. After all, I've had it for 33 years. For example, I know that when a particular part of my hand starts to ache, I'm destined for a cold or stomach bug. When my big toe pops a lot, I'm super dehydrated. When my right side feels funky and twinges, ovulation is just around the corner.

With all of my expert knowledge surrounding my body and its weird signals, I was confident that when I finally became pregnant, I would KNOW it. After all, for 48+ months, I documented every cramp, hiccup, sore breast and frequent pee I experienced. And for 48+ months, no pregnancy resulted.

To me, the logical assumption was that the month when a BFP did finally appear, I'd already be well aware of it. I read countless articles online, I asked friends, I asked relatives...it seemed everyone knew they were pregnant the second it happened. I would hear the stories and think, this is what will happen for me. 

But it didn't. Because it doesn't work that way for everyone. In the spirit of speaking up for those of us who didn't see any signs they were pregnant, here are my top "I knew I was preggers" stories that I call total and complete BS on. (And some of them aren't BS, but can be misleading for those of us who symptom spot every second of the day.) 

1) The Psychic:  Hell yes, I knew. I felt it happen, I swear to God. I was laying there after, ya know, we did it, and I just knew. I can't explain it. 

Why you may not have it: Sorry, Miss Cleo. You can't explain why you knew because you flat out didn't know. No one does. Besides, implantation (which is possible to feel) doesn't happen until several days past ovulation. What you felt was likely indigestion from the lasagna you ate. 

Could it still be a sign I'm pregnant? Doubtful. However, hindsight is 20/20. After getting that plus test, you look back and remember allllll the times you even remotely suspected that it finally happened. Maybe on the night you and your Hubs got sideways you did have a little extra twinge of hope. That's believable. But no, no one feels conception happen the moment the egg meets the sperm. So don't get discouraged if you didn't "feel it."

2) The Boob Whisperer: Oh, I knew because my boobs were KILLING ME. Like, I could not even put a shirt on. Seriously, if your boobs hurt, that's the number one sign. 

Why you may not have it: Okay, this one is legit up to a point. A lot of women feel tenderness in their tata's and their nipples. But here's the thing - so do women that are PMS'ing. In addition, for those of us that are taking progesterone and patches and injections, those medications can also cause breast tenderness. It can go either way. And also, some women experience no pain in their breasts. Mother Nature can be such a crafty little bee-otch.

Could it still be a sign I'm pregnant? Yes, of course it could. Looking back (remember that whole "hindsight is 20/20 thing"), my little ladies were more sore than my average period. But nothing that made me feel like I AM TOTES PREGNANT. So don't freak if your boobies are just averagely sore - you still might be getting a plus sign.

3. The Sleeping Beauty: Oh girl, I was so tired I couldn't even climb a flight of stairs without passing out. I just wanted to sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep. I'm usually so active and full of energy! So I totally knew when I was that exhausted.

Why you may not have it: Trying to get pregnant is an exhausting proposition in and of itself, especially if you've been trying for awhile. Feeling out of energy is a sign of stress and frustration just as much as PMS or pregnancy can be. 

Could it still be a sign I'm pregnant? Absolutely. If you are pregnant, your body is starting to go through some major changes and that can wear you down. But it isn't the same for every person. For me, I felt a little tired (again, looking back), but certainly not exhausted to the point where I could barely function. Don't wig out if you aren't falling asleep during your morning commute. 

4. The Happy Cramper: I had these weird cramps a few days after I ovulated. They felt kind of like a weird pulling in my stomach. Way different from cramps. I knew that was implantation happening.

Why you may not have it: Personal opinion? I think implantation cramps are impossible to decipher from PMS cramps. Trust me, I just went through it. Now yes, everyone is different, but you have to remember that every one of the people telling you these stories are those that are looking back after they've experienced it. A math test makes way more sense if you have the answers right in front of you, right? Yes, it's true that many women feel implantation. It's also true that many women don't. Unfortunately, there's no way of telling which camp you'll fall into.

Could it still be a sign I'm pregnant? Yup. And this is what I want to shout from the rooftops. Everyone is different. Some women feel cramps, some feel zilch. If every women could tell she was pregnant immediately, we wouldn't have amazingly awful shows like "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant."

5. The Spotty McSpotterton: I had a little spotting a few days after ovulation. Just a little faint pink after I wiped. I knew it was implantation and I was pregnant!!!

Why you may not have it: Implantation spotting is a real thing. But it doesn't happen to everyone. I asked 10 friends who had experienced pregnancy if they ever spotted prior to a positive test. Two of them had. The other eight laughed at me.

Could it still be a sign I'm pregnant? Most definitely. Implantation spotting is a very tell tale sign that something is going on in there. However, that doesn't mean you should give up and throw yourself off a cliff if you don't experience it. Remember my 2 out of 10 friends. And myself! I never spotted. Not once. And I got a positive result.

The moral to this entire post should be glaringly obvious. Everyone experiences the days up to their positive pregnancy test differently. Think about how different all of us are. Tall, short, skinny, athletic, overweight, underweight, blonde, brunette - the list goes on. Do you really think we'll all feel the same effects when we get pregnant? No way.

As someone who relies on the internet to blog and connect, I don't want to discourage you from checking your symptoms against those on pregnancy threads. Just do it with the understanding that looking for symptoms that aren't there can be a real downer. Believe me, I experienced it. As I mentioned at the beginning of this post, I truly thought I would know when it happened because I assumed it would be so different from all the other failed months. But it wasn't. It was like any other month...except with a positive test at the end.

Even today, as I write this, I still have very few symptoms (let's hope I can keep that going for 8 more months). Could I be a weird case? Yeah, I could. But I think you'll find that a lot of people who had 'symptoms' of pregnancy didn't really realize that's what they were until after they found out they were pregnant.

So hang in there, my two week wait friend. Don't despair because your boobs aren't on fire or you aren't peeing every 38 seconds. If it's happening, it's happening and no amount of worrying is going to make it happen any faster. Hang tight and breathe in and out. You'll know soon enough and if you get a positive, we'll all be here cheering for you.

XOXO, friends!

Coming Up Positive: The Story of My (finally) Positive Pregnancy Test

You know that age old saying, that when you wait for something for so long and it finally arrives, you'll have a total brain meltdown and won't be able to function for a bit?

No? No one's heard that one? Probably because it only exists for weirdos like me.

I've waited four years to write this post. Four agonizing, emotional, stressful, infuriating years. I imagined in my head how the whole thing would go. I imagined that the road ending in a positive pregnancy test would be all rainbows and unicorns. Hubs and I would find out together, side by side, hands tightly clasped together. The words "you're pregnant" would come through the phone, sending us into a celebration that could only be described as a mix between joyous and beautiful, psychotic and sort of scary. And then I would hop onto my beloved blog and share my story in an endless stream of thought provoking and poignant poetry that would make even the most doubtful of infertile's alive with hope.

It totally didn't happen that way.

Here's what happened:

We had our 5 day transfer on January 6, 2015. It went by the book. All was well, and I totally made it through like a champ. Okay, that's not true. I actually cried a lot because I was completely freaking out that it wouldn't work. But then the doctor gave me this amazing thing called Valium and I got all sorts of okay. 

Anyhoos, it all went great. We took pictures of the embryo hatching (which I will save for just us because...I don't know, it feels weird to post it). We left shortly after and went straight back to our hotel, proceeding to live out the next two ordered days of bed rest by watching two straight seasons of Game of Thrones.

(If this baby comes out with a weirdo English accent and a sword, we know who to blame.)

During the bed rest, I didn't feel any different. I thought I might feel some tugging or something but no...not a thing. Subsequently, after we returned home, I also felt nothing (remember this post?) and started to worry that it didn't work.

And I mean, I really worried. I just knew it didn't take.

I couldn't concentrate at work. I couldn't sleep. One reason I was so sure was because I KNOW MY BODY, DAMMIT. And I felt no different than any other time before. In fact, I was so sure of our imminent IVF failure that I brazenly told Hubs that if the result turned out to be positive, I would declare that from that day forth, I would leave all decisions concerning my own health to be decided by him and him alone because I was a cotton headed ninny-muggins.

He accepted the terms really quickly.

So, despite all my lovely Twitter friends and blog buddies assuring me that all would be well, I continued to be a Debbie Downer. The Thursday morning of the blood test arrived and I headed to the doc. As the nurse took my blood she said, "Today's the big day, eh? I hope I see you here in a few more days to test your HCG levels again!" I wanted to take the blood draw needle and shove it in her eye.

I left the doc's office still feeling dejected and pissed off. The nurse would send my results to my doc in Colorado, and then Colorado would be calling me sometime between 1:00 and 5:00 with my surely negative results. Whatevs.

Then something happened. At around 1:15, I got a weird twinge in my gut that I'd never felt before. Also, I had a spell of tiredness that had me considering pulling into a Wal-Mart parking lot to take a quick nap. What was this??? I'd heard that these could be early signs of pregnancy. But couldn't they also be PMS? Surely they were PMS, because I wasn't pregnant. I knew deep down in the catacombs of my vagina that no baby was being made in my womb. 

But a teeny, tiny ray of hope began to break through my gloomy outlook. Maybe the blood results had a small change of being positive after all.

The rest of the day passed and soon it was 4:45. Hubs and I were at my stepdaughter's basketball game when I heard the special ring of Colorado on my phone. This was it. We were about to find out. Hubs and I ran out to the lobby of the middle school gym to take the call.

Bad reception.

The nurse said something I couldn't understand. I ran out into the parking lot and, out of breath, asked her to repeat herself.

"...so sorry....so we'll need to...as soon as possible."

Feckety feck feck feck. I knew it. Negative. I asked her to please repeat the last part so I could know what to do next.

"I'm so sorry, Kim, but we still don't have the results from your local doctor yet. So we'll need to get the results faxed over from them as soon as possible. It's almost 5:00 your time, so if you can get them sent in the next 15 minutes, that'd be great."

A-ha! I was down, but not out. I speed dialed my local doc and got no answer. They tend not to check their voicemail after 4:30, so I knew I was in for a long night of waiting. Awesome.

That night crawled by. Hubs said no news was good news at this point, while I proceeded to make up a load of insane-crazy scenarios as to why the results hadn't arrived in Colorado. I'll spare you the crazy for another day.

It was a sleepless night.

The following morning, Hubs kissed me goodbye as he left for work. He reminded me to a) think positive and b) remember to conference him into the phone call when Colorado called with the results so we could hear together. That way, if the test was negative, we had each other to get through it.

I won't lie, I really thought about going to my bathroom vanity and pulling out the last pregnancy test I had and pee on it before anyone called. But I restrained myself.

At around 8:15, I figured it was safe to take a shower. It was still 7:15 in Colorado, and the clinic wasn't open yet for them to call. I hopped into the shower and got all shampooey, trying to wash the negative vibes away. And then the phone rang. 

I didn't even rinse the shampoo out of my hair. I just turned off the water, got out of the shower and grabbed my phone, water and suds dripping off of my completely nekkid body. I looked at the caller ID. It was my local clinic, where I had the blood draw. WTF? Why were they calling? I decided it must be to tell me they had just faxed the results over to Colorado.

"Hello?" I said, a stream of shampoo sliding into my mouth. Mmmm. Soapy.

"Hi, Kim, this is Mel over at the clinic and I'm just calling to tell you that your positive test has been sent over to your Colorado clinic. Your HCG levels were 225 and look great and..."

I have no real recollection of idea what she was even saying. I couldn't think. I couldn't process. Did she say positive?

"Wait, I...uh," I stammered, gripping the phone with a Kung Fu grip so I wouldn't dare drop it.  "I just, uh,...it sounded like you said my test was positive. Is that...I mean, did I hear you right?"

"Yes!" Mel said joyously, completely unaware she'd just changed my life with one word. "Congratulations! Your Colorado doctor will likely want to order you another blood test on Monday to make sure the levels are doubling, so we'll wait to hear from them. So we'll talk soon! Congrats again. Bye bye!"

I remember as I heard the line go dead, I raised my eyes to see myself standing there in my bathroom, soaking wet and naked as the day I was born. I took a deep breath and said aloud the words that were streaming across my brain like a sports ticker. "I'm pregnant." At that moment, all the energy left my body and I shriveled into a ball on the floor. Huge, gulping sobs of relief and emotion and disbelief came pouring out of me in a way I can't quite describe, even now. I have to think I went quite insane for a moment because I was so happy and yet sad and yet scared and confused. My body wasn't really sure what to do with itself. 

I had done it. I had endured painful tests, inquisitive friends, needle after needle, medication after medication, negative pregnancy tests, low bank accounts, low estrogen counts, high estrogen counts, high follicle counts, potential OHHS, delays, more delays, airplane flights, bad hotel food, arguments, make-ups, deaths in the family, births in the family...and it all led to here. For me and Hubs, our time was no longer "someday", out there in nowhere land. It was finally here.

Moments later, my hands trembling, I called Hubs at work. When I heard his voice, I could barely even speak. Later he would tell me he thought the news was bad because I was crying so hard. Ultimately he heard through my incoherent blubber that we were pregnant and just said softly, "I knew it, babe."  Yes, we were both disappointed that we weren't able to hear the call together as we'd planned, but infertility has done a great job of reminding us what happens when you attempt to plan any part of life.

After I finished my shower, the jaded part of me was still in a state of disbelief, and I decided a home pregnancy test was the only way to be sure I hadn't just dreamed this whole phone/shower scenario. I drank about a gallon of water and waited until I was sure I had to pee. I went to my bathroom vanity and dug through the maze of tampons and panty liners, looking for the one pregnancy test I knew I had left. Where the hell was it? I had it RIGHT HERE. And then I remembered. I actually didn't have any left. I used the last one on purpose last month so I wouldn't be tempted to test after the transfer.

Mother eff.

I hopped in my car with water dripping down my back and drove to the grocery store. I bought two pregnancy tests and some dog food (I can't neglect my current babies, right?) and headed home as fast as I could. The test took less than 30 seconds to display the result.

                                                     

   Clear Blue don't lie, honey.

So there it is, bloggies. In living color. I am pregnant. After four years of stopping and starting, giving up and and then gearing up, crying hard and then crying harder, it has all come to this. On or around September 24th, I will (God/Buddah/Allah/Tom Cruise willing) become a mother.

I realize how lucky I am. There are so many infertile's in this world that are on their 3rd, 4th, maybe even 5th IVF cycle. There are women who have had multiple miscarriages or invasive and painful surgeries to even have the hope that they can carry a child. There are those who won't ever have the financial ability to even attempt infertility treatments. I am a very fortunate gal and I am thankful all the way to my friends and family for their support in getting me to this point.

For now, I am happier than I have ever been, and I think I have to let that soak in. Relish it. As I tell my friends, I am happy with a small helping of cautiousness on the side. I know this is just the beginning of a very long journey. It could all end tomorrow. After all, I've never been pregnant before, and statistically, miscarriage is always a possibility. But if the two week wait taught me anything, it taught me that when it comes to this pregnancy stuff...I really don't know jack.

And yes, Hubs was quick to remind me that he gets to make all medical decisions for me going forward and I am, indeed, the most cottonest of the cotton headed ninny-muggins. 

And he'll never let me forget it, either.

XOXO,

Hurry up and wait...

The transfer is done, and it went well. And now we wait. In fairness, I knew the two week wait was going to be hard. 

I had no idea it would be this hard.

I've been through this twice before with IUI. You go in, you do the thing, you leave and you wait. And wait. And wait some more. The two week wait inevitably comes complete with a massive uptick in Facebook pregnancy announcements and pregnancy test commercials promising a positive result "6 days sooner!" 

With IUI, I felt the stress a little less. Yes, I looked into my symptoms more than I should have. But somehow I knew it wasn't going to work and that was okay. We could always move onto IVF.

IVF is different. Financially it's stressful, sure, but it's everything else. The emotional toll of it. The medication and injections. The mood swings. The uncertainty. But more than anything else, the unavoidable realization that this is the end of the road. If IVF doesn't work, where do we go from there? There's no "next step", other than to just try, try again.

(And if I had Kim Kardashians bank account, trying again and again would be the obvious choice.)

When we had our transfer last Tuesday, I felt so, so hopeful. We saw the embryo hatch and everything went beautifully. (PS, peeing in a bed pan is THE WORST.) The Valium was a huge help in calming me and my stressed out uterus. Hubs was amazing during the next two days of bed rest, keeping me calm and in the damn bed when all I wanted to do was get out and go shopping.

(Denver has amazing shopping, ya'll.)

After the two days passed and we returned home, I immediately broke the cardinal rule of the two week wait. I started Googling pregnancy symptoms and when I was supposed to experience them. Technically, because we did a 5 day transfer, I only have to wait for 9 days before testing, so not even a full two weeks.

According to Google and 257 complete strangers, I should have started exhibiting symptoms on Friday or Saturday at latest.

And I have nothing.

Not a peep. Not a twinge.

(Well, that's not true. On 2 days past transfer, I woke up with what felt like the beginning of my period-type cramps. Discouraging.)

Hubs tells me I'm being too negative. And trust me, I know I am. I know that staying positive is important and your body can sense when you're being less than optimistic. I know the power of positive thinking. But, at the same time, I just can't help it.

WHAT IF THIS DOESN'T WORK?

As my doctor said once, the good news is I have 14 amazing embryos to pick from. Hubs swimmers are great. My uterine lining is fantastic. I'm young (ish), healthy and I have a fantastic set of boobs.

(He didn't say that, but I feel it necessary to list among the positives.)

The bad news is...the doc doesn't have a clue as to why I haven't gotten pregnant yet. Which begs the question, if IVF doesn't work, what's wrong that's preventing it?

My fear is that we will have exhausted all the possibilities of what to fix and will be left with just a big question: why can't I get pregnant?

I know, I know. I'm so far down a road that hasn't even been built yet. But it's impossible not to go down. 

Especially because I feel NOTHING.

Two of my very good friends are less than 14 weeks pregnant and they both shared with me that their number one symptom was feeling exhausted. But I'm not exhausted. I'm not even kind of tired. I feel great and completely normal and I will be 7 days past 5 day transfer tomorrow.

Needless to say, I'm anxiously awaiting Thursday so I can have my blood draw and find out for sure. At least then the waiting and the torture will be over and we can decide our next steps, whether that be preparing for a baby or preparing to try again.

I'll keep you all posted. If I haven't had a heart attack before then.

XOXO,