Easy as Humble Pie

Every now and then I have to eat a meal that I absolutely loathe. And no, I'm not talking about stroganoff (although God knows I despise it with every fiber of my being), and I'm not talking about donuts, which I also despise.

Oh, calm down. Not everyone can like donuts.

The meal I'm talking about is harder to swallow than all of my least favorite dishes combined into a giant, gross, festering stew.

It's Humble Pie. It's so painful to eat and today I had to do it.

Let me back up.

Nearly 13 years ago, I became a stepmom to two amazing little girls, ages 3 and 6. I had a picture in my mind of how it would feel to settle into my new role. I pictured transitioning into the family easily, where everything just fell into place and everyone loved each other.

Unfortunately, as many people discover, the relationship between myself and the girls' mother was...well, difficult right from the start. There were reasons for that difficulty beyond my control, but I still desperately wanted to make an effort to be the perfect stepmom and please everyone: my husband, the girls, and their mom.

(Spoiler alert: This is impossible and altogether hilarious.)



As much as I tried, I struggled to find a balance between being treated as a glorified babysitter (a label that still makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up) and a worthy, loved, parent-figure in the girls' lives.

Unfortunately, despite my best and occasionally misguided efforts to be the best stepmom I could, I often felt under-appreciated, devalued, and most disappointingly, attacked. It made me angry. It made me judgmental toward her. Because all I wanted was to be treated like a quasi-equal. A teammate in raising these children. I was loving these kids the best I knew how. Obviously I wasn't perfect, but I certainly wasn't locking them in a tower or forcing them to mop the floors while cartoon forest creatures fluffed the beds each morning.



Let's be real though, there were lots of crimes being continuously committed on both sides of the parenting/step-parenting fence. I was no angel and neither was she. It's how these things go. Angry words were said or texted. She did this thing because I did that thing. I did that thing because she did this thing. Anger stewed and festered. Side eyes were thrown around like pies in a pizza shop. Emails were sent. Emails were replied to. There were curse words. There were threats. Everyone acted immaturely.



But then one day it happened. I got vindication. My husband and I discovered that the girls had never been to the dentist. At the time they were nearly 6 and 8 years old. AHA! She wasn't mother of the year!! After all, what kind of horrible mother doesn't send her kids to the dentist?!?!!?

I got out my biggest blanket and snuggled on the couch, cozy in my pettiness, looking for a pediatric dentist for my stepdaughters. It was time for us (my husband and myself) to do the parenting on this. We would handle it.

And we did handle it. We got both girls an appointment and were sad to discover that the youngest daughter (age six) had several teeth that needed to be pulled. I remember that day so clearly. I remember her walking back to the chair with a smile, not sure what would happen. And then I remember when she came back out, so helpless, a mouth full of stuffing in her mouth and huge gaping holes where the rotted teeth had been. There were small blood splatters on her lace white shirt. She had been brave, but terrified.

I turned to look at at my stepdaughter's mother and the expression of absolute horror on her face. Today, now a mother to my own child, I can actually feel her emotions. The guilt. The pain. The regret. I imagine it consumed her for weeks and years to come. She must have felt two inches tall.

Back then, though, I was busy being a petty bitch.

"Good!" I thought, swimming in self-importance. "She thinks she's such a perfect mom and I'm soooo terrible. Well look how the tables have turned now! She didn't even take her own children to the dentist and now look where we are. I would never let that happen."

Time went on. 10 years, in fact. In those 10 years, I admit I've looked back on that dentist episode with some pleasure, especially when I feel particularly demeaned by their mother.

"No matter how bad she makes me feel," I've thought many times. "I'll always have the dentist."

Until now.

Now I realize what an absolute asshole I was. Because something happened.

Earlier this week, I was filling out selections for our 2020 medical coverage and stopped dead when I came across the dental section. My stomach dropped into my toes. My heart raced. I racked my brain forward and backward trying to think of when I'd made an appointment. But no, it was true.

We'd never taken our son to the dentist.

He is 4.

HOW DID I LET THIS HAPPEN? When I was pregnant, I read every book about when to take my kid to which doctor and how often, and the dentist was always at the top of the list. I wasn't about to let my son be the kid who never went to the dentist.

Oh, how the mighty fall.

I barked at Siri to call the exact same pediatric dentist that my stepdaughters went and made the appointment. And today, there we sat. In the same waiting room. The same chairs. The same wallpaper. The same kids movies playing on the TV. 10 years later with our son. Our son who is only a mere two years from being the same age as my youngest stepdaughter when she had those teeth removed.

In his case, we were lucky. We brush our son's teeth often and carefully and he only had one cavity. Nothing traumatic befell him. He would be fine.

But me? I could smell the Humble Pie cooking.

While we hadn't waited quite as long as the girls' mom, we still waited too long. The American Academy of Pediatric Dentistry recommends a dental visit by age ONE. I missed that by three years.

In the end, here's my takeaway. I don't know what's going on in the lives of my stepdaughters' mother. I didn't know back then, and I don't know now. I don't know what she's dealing with, even when I hear bits of (likely incorrect) information from one of our teenagers.  Regardless, it's none of my business. Maybe back then she didn't have insurance for dental visits. Maybe she didn't know when it was recommended to take her kids for an appointment. Maybe she couldn't take the cut in pay that would be required to take an hour or two off work.

It. Doesn't. Matter.

In my intense desire to be on the parenting team, I should have given my teammate some grace. I shouldn't have reveled in her pain when she saw her daughter come out of that dentist appointment. I shouldn't have been gleeful at someone's misery. That wasn't kind of me. How could I expect kindness from her if I wasn't willing to give it out myself?

Today's lesson wasn't one I wanted to learn, but I can tell you what it was. Absolutely necessary. I needed to climb down out of my ivory tower.

Never judge, never assume, and never wish pain or suffering on another person, no matter what they might have done to you first. We're all doing our best, especially as parents. There's enough judgment from friends, family, co-workers, social media, and every random person we meet in our daily lives. The last thing our children should have to worry about is their parents and step parents trying to make each others lives miserable.

The ones who suffer from that are the kids. And that's never okay.

I'm off to heat up another helping of that Humble Pie. I won't lie; I'm having it with wine.

if only I'd known...

This last weekend was Mother's Day and I couldn't help but remembering one year ago looking at all the posts on Facebook and Instagram of new mothers or mothers to be in my feed, making me sadder and sadder that I still wasn't there. I was still just waiting. Waiting for the day it was my turn. This year is obviously quite a bit different as I am waiting to become a mother to the little banana that is growing away in my gut (and starting to kick that gut, as well). 

But fear not. I remember what is was like to be in the infertility shoes. I remember all too well. Several of my friends and acquaintances are just beginning on the infertility journey, so I wanted to share a few thoughts that might help prepare you for the road you're considering heading down. These, as always, are just my experience, so don't expect that you will have the exact same experience. But I do wish I had known a few of these things going in...though maybe it wouldn't even have helped. Sometimes ignorance can be bliss!

1. Be ready to wait

I'm not talking about waiting for treatment, either. I'm talking about waiting to even be seen by a doctor. The harsh reality is, infertility is not uncommon. At all. If you are considering heading to an infertility specialist, I wouldn't wait until you hit the year mark. Once you've been trying for 8 months, give the local infertility place a jingle and ask what kind of wait you will be on to see a doctor. For me, I called after we had been trying for a year and our appointment was set for three further months out. It felt like lost time.

2. Track your cycles and be ahead of the game

When we finally got in to see a specialist, the doc gave me a blank sheet for tracking my cycles and said, "track your basal body temperature for three months, then come back and we can move on." I was devastated. I was wanting to get going right now. And now I had to go home and track my basal body temp for a further three months! Had I shown up with my basal body temps and ovulation dates accounted for already, we probably could have moved on to the next step.

3. The protocol should make sense

If I could change one thing about my infertility treatment, it would be the order in which it occurred. My original doctor (who I later moved on from) put me on Clomid for three months. When that didn't work, she had me go in for an HSG, in which they found a small blockage in my right tube that was easily cleared. So...why didn't I do the HSG first? If I had a blocked tube during those months on Clomid, it was like throwing darts through water. Completely pointless. You will often hear me say (even in this very blog entry) to trust your doctor, but you must also trust in yourself. If something doesn't seem right, speak up! 

4. You really are a number

Every fertility clinic will make promises that you are special, you are unique and you are going to be treated as such. Ya'll, that is a TALL order to fill. These people are working their tails off to make babies for all sorts of different people and sometimes, you are going to get lost in the shuffle. Paying close attention to what your doctor tells you and following up is on you just as much as it is on them. I remember a few times at my doctor thinking, "Geez, he sounds like a robot. Just telling me my results and moving on." But then I would stop and think about how many times a day he does this. How many times he's had to tell someone that their IUI didn't work, or their IVF cycle was a failure. I think about when I have to break bad news to someone and how I feel emotionally drained for days afterward. It's not an easy cross to bear. Yes, these places make a large amount of money for what they do, but remember they are humans. Sometimes it's just self preservation that keeps them from seeming that way.

On the flip side, your doctor or nurse should never be rude to you or disrespect you. If they do, get the hell out and find a new doc.

 5. You can't predict how long it will take - or if it ever will

Whether you know what your problem is (PCOS, endometriosis, sperm quality, etc) or not, there is no accurate timeline that a doctor can give you. I remember someone once telling me that once you see a fertility doctor, if you aren't pregnant in a year, they're doing something wrong. Do not listen to these people. Hope is a wonderful thing, but false hope is the worst. This is not a Nestle Chocolate Chip recipe where you put in the right ingredients and you get a delicious dessert 20 minutes later. You are trying to create a human being.

One common thing that many people succumb to is armchair doctors...aka friends that KNOW what treatment you should be doing. Friends that say things like, "Oh, Femara? My friend didn't get pregnant after 4 months on Femara. Then she switched to Clomid and she got pregnant the next month!" Yes, they are trying to be helpful, but you have got to listen to your doctor. You can certainly mention what your friend advised to your physician, but be prepared for them to roll their eyes and say, "What degree does your friend have?" 

If your doctor makes a promise like, "Oh, we can get you pregnant in six months", may I suggest running away like the building is on fire? Your doctor is just that, a doctor. Not Miss Cleo. No one knows how long this will take, or if it will ever take. There is a reason that surrogate mothers and adoption exist. Some women never make it to the land of conception and that's okay. Just know at the outset that there is always a chance that conceiving may not be in the cards. Going in with knowledge is always better than going in blind.

6. Your cost estimate is wrong

Hubs and I tried to "budget" for infertility treatments. What a complete waste of time. I get it, you want to to sort of have an idea of what it's going to cost to get knocked up, but here's the thing...there's no way to tell. I assumed we'd get pregnant after one round of IUI. Truthfully, IVF was not even in my realm of imagination. And yet, that's where we ended up. 

Oh, and IVF budgets are impossible, too. I remember looking at the costs and saying, "Well, Hubs, we won't need ICSI and we're not doing a frozen cycle, so that saves XYZ dollars. We can afford this. It will be tight, but we can. Yay!"

Fast forward 3 weeks and we found out a) we needed ICSI and b) our cycle changed to frozen when I developed 33 follicles. Again, you are trying to make a baby, not getting the transmission in your car cleaned out. This is unpredictable. If you are really a stickler about what you're going to be spending, I would suggest to make a plan for what it will cost, and then add at least 50%. There are things you will totally forget about and things you never knew were coming. 

7. The worry never goes away

Somehow I was under the impression that once I got pregnant, all my troubles and anxiousness would magically disappear. They didn't. Pregnancy is not easy. It's a roller coaster, just a different type of roller coaster than infertility. Your friends and family might be surprised to hear you even mention unfavorable pregnancy symptoms because, after all, "isn't this what you wanted?" Yes, it is what I wanted. But do I really want to grow this thing inside of me and have it kicking my innards for 9 months? Of course not. I'd love it if I could just skip the whole human coming out of my vajay-jay and produce a child out of thin air. Just because I was an infertile doesn't mean the pain and discomfort of pregnancy are welcomed with open arms.

Think of it this way...remember when you were young and had your first pregnancy scare? (If you didn't, good for you.) Remember how you sat on your bed and cried and prayed for God to give you the worst cramps ever in the history of life if only you wouldn't be pregnant right now? And then your period came and you got the worst cramps ever in the history of life? Did you sit there and say, "This is amazing!!! Thank you for these awful cramps!" Hell no. Same with infertiles and pregnancy. You hope and you wish and beg for it, but when it's happening, it's not exactly a picnic. You can be miserable and still grateful. Ain't no shame in that game.

8. Your relationship will suffer

Don't freak out - I didn't say it would end. I just want you to know that there is no couple on earth who can go through the ups and downs of infertility and not struggle. There are just too many dimensions to the process. You're going through things mentally and physically, and believe it or not, so is your partner. But remember, the only way to get through this is to talk. That might even mean counseling. It's nothing to be ashamed of or hide from. No couple signs on for marriage or a long term commitment expecting that they will have to go through this. It's hard, it's tough and it sucks. But...it can be done. 

I'll save some other tips on how to help in the relationship department in another post on another day, but just know that it will test your relationship and hopefully make it stronger.

9. It may not happen

This is my least favorite part to write, but it is the truth. There are people in this world who don't get a baby. Whether the funds finally dry up or adoption doesn't pan out...ultimately, sometimes the end of the road really does show itself. I'm not saying this to be depressing, I'm saying it because it is the reality of the world we all live in. I don't understand why and I don't pretend to be able to make it better with a blog. All I can tell you is, if you are an infertile, guard your heart and know that sometimes the good guys don't win. If you end up in the pool of those that come to the end of the fertility road, my heart goes out to you. Keep your friends and family close to you and know you gave it everything you had. And no one can take that from you. 

Infertility is a lot to take on. Even admitting that you might be infertile is a huge step. Hell, I didn't even want to say it out loud for a long time. It's a process. A long, stressful process that takes the strength of a warrior. But you are strong and you are a warrior and you will get through it one way or the other. You may not even recognize yourself when you come out the other side. But hang on tight and rely on your friends (bloggy and real life) to get you through it. We're always here.

XOXO my friends,

Let's go to the movies - holiday style

The holiday's are officially in full swing, and if you're like me, you desperately want to get into the spirit and stay there for the foreseeable future.

For me, Christmas spirit usually comes without me having to coax it. I naturally love this time of year and am one of those people who love Black Friday and pumpkin pie and Christmas music stations. But this year is a little different. I'm in Denver for my first fresh IVF Cycle, doing a great impression of a human pin cushion every night and morning with my 3-4 daily injections. I'm away from home and missing my friends and family and Hubs (who will get here later this week). To make matters less jolly, Hubs and I aren't putting up Christmas decorations this year. There's really no point, considering neither of us will be home to appreciate them, thus leaving the tree to be terrorized by our two cats.

No thanks.

The IVF cycle has my mind moving a million miles a minute with "what if's", and it's sort of cramping my holiday style. So, because I'm feeling more Grinch than Elf right now, I've decided to lift my spirits by making a wonderful list of the Christmas movies that will put the jingle in my Kringle. These movies are guaranteed to make you laugh, cry and shout "Merry Christmas to all! And to all a good night!"

So get some egg nog and spike it (if you aren't pregs yet), snuggle up with your BFF or Hubs or life partner or dog or cat, and let's get some Christmas Spirit up in this bee-otch!

Kim's Holiday Movie Must-Watches

Die Hard: Why not start Christmas off with a bang and lots of curse words? And a super hot Alan Rickman being all English and nasty? If you're into explosions, plot holes, bad 80's hair and Bruce Willis being a bad ass, this is the movie for you. Yippee-Ki Yay, mother f*cker.

Funny Farm: Okay, it isn't exactly a Christmas movie, per se. But damn if I don't love it. This won't be the last time Chevy Chase appears on this list, either. Two yuppies from New York move out to the country to experience the quiet life and get anything but. Can the holiday spirit of a small town keep them together? There are so many one liners in this movie, I can't even get started, because I just won't stop. All I'll say is, "Cue the deer."

Elf: I mean, duh. Will Ferrell was born to be a cheesy, sugar-addicted human raised by elves. Only Will can accuse a department store Santa of smelling like beef and cheese and get away with it. If nothing else, watch this movie for the fantastic chemistry between Will and Zoey Deschanel. Adorable.

9. Polar Express: I hesitate to put this on the list, mostly because the book is so much better. But Tom Hanks is my spirit animal and he pulls off several roles in this sugary-sweet cartoon like the Christmas pro he is. Watch this film when you feel like all of your Christmas spirit has left you...you're guaranteed to get it back and "Believe."

8. The Holiday: For years people told me about this movie and I finally gave in last year and watched it. So glad I did. Cameron Diaz is spot on as a rich, Type-A Hollywood bitch, looking for an escape where no one knows her name. Kate Winslet is perfection as an unassuming, humble English gal, looking for a little adventure in the holiday season. The two strangers switch homes for Christmas and hilarity/romance/tears ensue. This movie makes me want to drink hot chocolate and marry Jude Law. What's more Christmas-y than that?

7. Serendipity: Calling all sappy, chick flick lovers! This one's a doozy. John Cusack and Kate Beckinsale play two perfectly gorgeous New Yorkers who meet by accident, fall in love in approximately 8 minutes, and then get ripped apart by circumstance. Can fate bring them back together? This movie will always be at the top of my faves list, mostly because Hubs and I have a similar fate-esque story, and I love to believe in holiday love miracles.

Also, Jeremy Piven as the comic relief is genius. 

Home Alone: Who doesn't love watching two bad guys get the pulp beat out of them by a kindergartner?  20+ years since this film came out and I will literally still watch it in the dead of summer when it's 102 degrees outside. I can't get enough of Katherine O'Hara as Kevin's neurotic mother, mowing down anyone who attempts to block her from getting home to the son she left behind on vacation.

On a sappy note, I love the theme of "I'm not afraid anymore." As adults, we're sometimes afraid to admit that things scare us. This movie always reminds me that most of the fear is in our heads and we've got to let those around us help when we're paralyzed by that fear. (Hello, infertile friends, I'm talking to you!)

A Christmas Story: Full disclosure: I used to watch this movie several times a year, until TNT ruined everything by playing it 24/7 on Christmas. I went on a 2-3 year strike and just recently decided to let it back into my holiday foray. I'm glad to have it back. After all, Ralphie is the kid in all of us - slightly nerdy but sensitive and sweet. And dammit, he just wants a BB gun. (For girls, that translates to an EZ Bake Oven. "You'll burn your hand off, kid.")

What I love most about this movie is, it's a glimpse into a different time. Seeing Christmas through the eyes of a generation that didn't have color TV's and iPads, or hell, even microwaves. It makes me long for a simpler time, where watching a dramatic event unfold happened on the playground rather than on The Real Housewives of Whatever. I love watching Ralphie gather his courage and beat the snot out of Skut Farcus and his yellow eyes. I love seeing Ralphie's mom cover for him when he almost shoots his eye out. This is the stuff of genius and I live for it.

The Family Stone: Boy meets girl. Boy brings girl home to meet his parents for the holiday. Easy, right? Wrong.

The Family Stone is amazing for a zillion reasons, but chief among them can be summed up in three words: Diane Freakin' Keaton. Diane stars as Sybil Stone, the bohemian-esque matriarch of her liberal, somewhat snobbish family, who are hell bent on making her son's new girlfriend (Sarah Jessica Parker) as uncomfortable as possible for the holidays. They succeed with gusto. 

This movie is truly a glimpse into the dysfunction that every family has, but will never admit. The over-arching theme is, "we all love each other anyway", and that always rings true for me around the holidays. My family drives me up the wall most of the time, but there is always love there, no matter our differences. This movie hammers that sentiment home with a mix of drama, tragedy and most importantly - laughter. 

Seriously, go watch it.

Christmas Vacation: Clark Griswold is the man. He wants to host the ultimate old-fashioned family Christmas, and he'll be damned if anyone gets in his way. 

I don't know many people who haven't seen this movie, but if you're one of them, rectify that mistake immediately. Watch as Clark endures a grumpy boss, asshole neighbors and one completely white-trash cousin in an effort to bring Christmas cheer to his less-than appreciative family. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll snort egg nog up your nose. And that's what Christmas is all about.

Scrooged: Bill Murray as a miserable grump executive who hates Christmas? Can that even work? You bet your sweet holiday nuts it can. Speaking of nuts, Murray gets punched in them a few times by the Ghost of Christmas Present in this holiday hoot with a heart.

Sleepless in Seattle/You've Got Mail: I mentioned earlier that Tom Hanks is my spirit animal. This couldn't be more true than in either of these movies. Tom is the perfect blend of sweetness, chivalry and sarcasm in both films. Meg Ryan is in her element as quirky, self-conscious and annoying. They belong together. Watch them as they figure it out.

Love Actually: I actually love the British. They pull every heart string I have out of its socket and then lovingly put it all back together again. This is the only holiday movie (except for maybe Christmas Vacation) that Hubs will voluntarily watch. He even asks to watch it every year! So, if you're going to make your macho macho man watch a holiday movie, break this one out.

Follow along as 8 love stories collide with hilarity, satire, loneliness, and passion. There's plenty of Christmas eye-candy in it too, including Hugh Grant (sex on a sugar-coated stick), Alan Rickman, Colin Firth and Liam Neeson. Oh, and that guy from "Walking Dead."

What else could you ask for Santa to bring you? (Well, one of those men naked in my living room would work fine.)

*****

There you have it, my friends. My fave holiday movies to get jingled with. And yes, I know I left off some major holiday cartoons (aka The Grinch, Frosty the Snowman, Rudolph, Charlie Brown, etc.) But those are a given.

I would tell you to get to your local video rental store, but those are obsolete. So get to your Netflix or Amazon Prime or Apple TV or whatever piece of technology you use to watch movies, and snuggle in for a long day of amazing holiday masterpieces.

And seriously, don't forget the spiked egg nog. 

Happy Holidays!

famous last words

Earlier this week I complained on Twitter that my monthly friend was taking longer than usual to get here. For once, I needed her to arrive so I could begin my lovely Depot Lupron shots for two months prior to my retrieval and transfer. I was tired of waiting and pissed off that my period would decide that this was the month we'd enjoy a 34 day cycle.

I went to the bathroom each day and hoped and wished for AF to arrive. When she didn't, I would whine to Hubs and bitch about AF's failure to just GET HERE ALREADY. Poor Hubs. It was such a departure for him to hear me complaining about AF being late. For months on end, he's heard me hope for her late or non-existent arrival, and now I'd turned everything on its head and hoped for her arrival as soon as possible.

When finally my monthly friend showed up on Sunday, I immediately got excited, ready to start my injections and get this damn show on the road. But of course, AF wasn't going to go without a fight (my injections will make her disappear for two months). This has been one of the ickiest, crampiest, American Horror Story-esque periods of my entire existence. 

Naturally, I whined to Hubs about it.

"OWW!" I screamed from the bathroom. "Why does it HURT so much this month. And why is it so heavy this month? JESUS, I HATE HAVING A PERIOD!"

"Babe," replied Hubs, incredulous. "Two days ago you were begging for this, remember? You wanted your period to show up. You said you'd be excited when it did. I don't get it. YOU ASKED FOR IT."

Those four words: you asked for it. They haunt me. Mostly because they're true. I have been asking for my period for a week. But, it doesn't mean I really WANT it. I just needed it to get here so I could move on to the next step. There's a big difference between wanting something and needing it. I want to get pregnant. I needed Flo to show up in order to get what I want.

I feel like I need to warn Hubs to tread carefully in the next few months, because I'm going to get a lot of things that I've "asked for" in the name of getting knocked up. Injections, blood work, general anesthesia, cramping, bloating, pain, misery...they're all coming.

And guess what? It won't stop there. 

If I get pregnant, the list of things I've "asked for" is just beginning. If we're successful in IVF, I'm likely going to get a sundry of new discomforts: swollen ankles, weight gain, hemorrhoids, mood swings, back pain, withdrawl from my nightly glass of wine, etc. The list will go on and on.

But here's the thing. Just because I've technically "asked" for these things doesn't mean they are any less painful or annoying or upsetting. Injections are painful whether you ask for them or not. Hot flashes are annoying whether you ask for them or not. PREGNANCY is painful and difficult, even if you beg for it.

So all of this begs the question: does "asking for it" mean I don't get to hate it a little bit? 

Does the fact that, for the last four years, I have begged on my hands and knees for a pregnancy mean that if I get one, I'm not allowed to bitch when it's miserable?

That doesn't seem fair to me.

I worry that when I finally do have my retrieval and I'm laying in my hotel room, moaning to myself about it hurting or being uncomfortable, I'm going to have to hear, "Babe, this is what you wanted. You asked for it."

And he will be right. I will have asked for it. Is it selfish of me to want him to be sympathetic just a teeny weeny bit longer? Will it be selfish of me to want him to be sympathetic for the FULL 9 months that I am (hopefully) pregnant? I don't think so.

I realize it sounds like I'm dumping on Hubs and I promise I'm not. I can't imagine what it's been like for him, sharing his home with a living, breathing one-woman circus of emotions every day. But I need him to understand that even though I've asked for all of this, at the same time, I didn't ask for it.

I didn't ask to be infertile. I didn't ask for endometriosis. I didn't ask for ovaries that don't seem to work right. I didn't ask for a huge portion of our savings to go toward medical treatment that may not even work. I never asked for any of that.

All I'm asking for is a solution to it all. And the path that we're on is, hopefully, the solution. And that solution will make me crazy and ridiculous and nutso. Together, we're going to have to get through what we've both asked for...no matter how hard it gets.

Ultimately, we're going to get what we've asked and begged and hoped and done voo-doo dances for all along. And then, it will all be worth it.

no fear

This is a story about the day I walked into my current fertility clinic to begin the journey to IVF. The day I had waited for for months.The fertility clinic in our home town wasn't doing it for me. I felt like a number, I felt like a chore. I didn't feel that my opinions mattered or were even considered - I just needed to shut up and do what the doctor told me.

No thanks.

I approached my husband very carefully about the idea of switching clinics. We'd spent quite a few dolla dolla bills on treatment at our current clinic, and to him, all seemed fine. But in my gut, I knew I wanted to try somewhere else before we moved from IUI to IVF. So being the thorough gal I am, I did my research. I printed out the live birth rates of the clinic in town and the clinic in Colorado I wanted to try. There was a nearly 20% difference in live births between the two. 

That is massive.

In addition, I calculated how much one round of IVF would cost at home, and how much it would cost in Colorado with travel included. It was about a $6,000 difference, which is no small potatoes. But when you're already spending $40k, what's another 6 for a 20% higher chance of success?

My ego loves to think that my research and carefully crafted speech is what convinced Hubs to go for it, but my ego is full of it. Hubs will do whatever it takes to make me happy, and if flying to Colorado is what's going to do it, he'll sign on the dotted line. 

If we get a baby out of it, even better.

The day finally came for our "one day workup" in Colorado. That's just fancy shmancy speak for "we're going to poke a lot of holes in you and look up your hoo ha a lot. Oh, and Hubs gets to make love to a plastic cup."

All new patients at this clinic who are participating in IVF go to a one hour "class" before they begin their work up. This class is meant to give you a bird's eye view of what is coming down the road. The class began at 7:00 AM.

Hubs and I pulled our rental car into the parking lot at 6:40. Because preparedness.

We were the first to arrive, so we had the conference room all to ourselves. We were instructed to go in, relax, and wait for the other couples. I had been nervous/excited the entire night prior when we flew into the airport, but now I was really feeling something new.

Fear.

We pulled open the glass doors to the conference room and stepped inside. It was a large rectangular room, with the requisite wood table in the middle, a projection screen against the wall, and several boxes of tissue boxes perched on the table. Standard stuff.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, I started shaking, unable to catch my breath. Tears streamed down my face. My poor husband. He had no clue what was wrong. Was I getting cold feet? Did I want to go home? After all, this is what I wanted, what I begged us to do!

I stood there, crying, and couldn't take the thoughts floating around in my head and put them into my mouth.

How did we get here?

Four years ago when this all started, I never thought it would go this far. I made jokes after the first year saying, "well, maybe I'll just have to do that thing where they take the egg out and cook it in the microwave!" I joked about it, because I didn't think I'd ever get there.

Four years ago, if you had told me that Hubs and I would be going to go to Colorado for potentially two weeks in 2014, I would have said, "Shit, what contest did we win?" Never would I imagine that it would be for this.

And yet there I was. In a conference room I shouldn't be in. It shouldn't have come to this. It should have been easy to get pregnant, because we're good people. We deserve to be parents to our own biological children. We deserve to have something tangible grow from the love we have for each other.

Why the feck is this happening? Why do we have to do this?

And what if it doesn't work? In that moment, I was completely crippled with fear that IVF wouldn't work...and then where would we be?

Hubs put me in a much needed bear hug and softly reminded me that this is necessary. With infertility, if you're not moving forward, you're standing still. If we want a child, this is what has to happen. We made it this far, and we have to keep pushing on. Past the fear, past the anxiety. Forward.

And so we did. We pushed on and made it through the day. A lot of information went in my ears, but I don't know how much of it stuck in my brain. It didn't matter though, because I left feeling hopeful. I left feeling glad we came, and my husband's thoughts echoed my own.

Forward. Always forward.

Our journey is finally beginning. We just have to have the dedication to see it through.

'til infertility do us part

We all took vows when we married our sweethearts. We promised to love each other, no matter what.

Rich.

Poor. 

Sickness.

Health.

Better.

Worse.

What amazes me as I look back on those vows, is how little I really knew about them. I really wasn't even paying attention to them. After all, I was fit, happy, healthy, employed and marrying a super hot dude that I loved more than life. The only vows that I related to at that time were health, better, and rich. I planned to have them all in spades.

The vow that I paid the least attention to was "sickness." I mean, c'mon. My husband and I were 27 years old when we got married. We weren't going to get sick anytime soon. "Sick" was for other people. People with a history of cancer and allergies and all that stuff I never paid any attention to.

I didn't even know infertility fell under a category of "sickness." But it does. Infertility is a disease. And while it isn't terminal (thanking my lucky stars on that one), it is a disease. It plagues the heart, the mind and the soul. It sneaks up on you very, very slowly. It sneaks up on your marriage even slower.

I remember the first time I met with my infertility specialist. She rattled off a list of the ways infertility was likely going to affect me if I moved forward with treatment.

Financially (rich/poor) Emotionally (better/worse) Physically (health/sickness)

Little did I know every single one of those wedding vows I spoke 7 years ago would be tested by being infertile. But they are. Every single day.

I'm luck to have an incredibly supportive husband. He's in it all the way. He knows about my treatments, he knows about the hormones, and he does his best to empathize with me. But at the end of the day? He will never fully understand.

He will never understand the conversations I have with myself when I'm peeing on that stupid stick for the 349th time, at 2:37 in the morning because I had a dream that the IUI worked.

"Okay, Kim. It's probably negative. It's not a big deal, no one gets a positive on the first try. Just be prepared for the negative. Be ready. But also, be optimistic! No wait, optimism is a gateway drug. It leads to thoughts about baby announcements and strollers and showers and epidurals shots. Don't be optimistic, but don't be a pessimist. I wonder what Hubs will think when I show him the test and it's POSITIVE! But it isn't going to be positive, and I've got to accept that. BUT WHAT IF IT'S POSITIVE!!!!"

He will never understand waking up at 3:00 in the morning experiencing hot flashes like a 53 year old menopausal woman because the stupid Clomid is fecking with my hormones. He doesn't know that every Facebook post with a baby announcement is like 100 daggers in my heart. Even though I smile and say, "Aw, good for them. No really, it's okay. I'm okay, Hubs. I'm happy for them." 

He will never understand how much a negative pregnancy test hurts me, even though I knew it was coming. He doesn't understand that it IS a big deal, because somewhere, in the back of my mind, I really did think this was the month. After all, he's the one who encourages optimistic thought. What he doesn't understand, is that when I do force myself to be optimistic and the result isn't positive, it hurts that. much. more. And the fact that he's so calm about it, so positive, makes me want to slap him across the face and scream, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?! It's NEVER going to be okay!" Even though it probably will be...eventually.

Most importantly, Hubs doesn't know that I'm so mentally and emotionally exhausted from all of this that sometimes I don't even know if I WANT a baby anymore. Maybe it's too much. Maybe if I do finally get pregnant, I won't be able to handle it. I mean, is the universe giving me an infertile stamp because it inherently knows I'm not able to be a mother? Am I forcing nature to do something it's programmed not to do for a reason? Should my amazing stepdaughters be enough for me?

Infertility has been hard on my marriage. We argue about silly things, ridiculous things. He wants me to be more positive, I want him to be more realistic. He wants to be left alone, I need hugs and warmth and kisses. After an argument, we always find our way back to each other and that's how it should be. But each fight makes the next month just a little harder. We lose a piece of ourselves every time that damn stick says "not pregnant." And we can't get those pieces back. 

We're both fighting the same fight. I might be the one who is infertile, but he's suffering just as much as me. And in those moments when we're each hurting the most, in a strange twist of irony, that's when we hurt each other. For no reason. For no reason at all.

That sickness/health vow is such a big part of our lives right now, it's hard to imagine that at one time, it was at the bottom of my list. But here we are, and we're in it - for better for worse. We're a little less rich and a little more poor, but we're here. Fighting.

And better is coming. I know it.