Signs of the Impending Apocalypse

I have found two fairly reliable metrics in my life to determine how close I am to completely losing my shit:

no good can come from this....

1. How close I've come to crying in public
2. The quality of television/movies I choose to pass the time with.

Post IUI this morning I cried in the parking lot, then went home and rented Magic Mike.

Shits about to get real, folks.

Infertility, Pregnancy and Childbirth in the Media

OR: Shit that has made me "Claire Danes Cry" on my couch

Say what you will, but that woman
*commits* to her ugly sob.

Maybe I'm just more sensitive to it lately, but I've been noticing a lot more infertility, pregnancy and childbirth story-lines in everyone's favorite escape from the crushing realities of their lives: television and movies.

What follows in the good, the bad and the ugly of what I've encountered.

SPOILERS AHEAD!

Obligatory "its been awhile!" post

Wow, imaginary readers, its been awhile!

A lot has happened in the past 7 months that have required me to develop new and exciting coping mechanisms!  One such coping mechanism, I've decided, is writing more.  I want to journal (read: incomprehensibly spew my overly emotional day to day thoughts onto this blog in a way I will undoubtedly retrospectively regret) Boy are you all lucky!

Anyway, here's the highlight reel or the past 7 months.

Adventures in Laparoscopic Surgery

Well I had the surgery to remove my endometriosis last Friday.

Play by play after the jump:

Shake it off: The Original

Lets face it, a visit from Aunt Flo (fuck it, we're all adults here), getting your period normally sucks.  You're hormonal, bloated and in pain.  Getting your period when you're trying to conceive is a one-two hadouken to your uterus and soft, squishy emotional core.  It's like your body is reviewing all of the month's hard work, all of the charting and timed intercourse, all of the money spent on ovulation predictor kits, all of the hours obsessing over potential early pregnancy signs, and well... going like this:

So, I'm introducing a regular series I like to call: "The internet helps me cope with the crushing fear that I will never conceive a child", Shake it off.  For everyone who got the bad news this week, pour yourself a glass of wine/double shot of espresso/fifth of whiskey and enjoy the original, greatest cheer up the internet has to offer.  This one has gotten me through tough times folks, and I hope it does the same for you.

Without further ado, I present, "Shake it Off-Puppy".

in which I attempt to come up with multiple, nerdy, euphemisms for semen.

no, not that dude

I've heard in a few places that approximately 40% of infertility is due to problems with the dude.  Problems with morphology, mobility or simply an absence of kids in the pool can result in a trash can full of spent pee sticks.  (Sorry folks, I'm on my 2nd glass of "not this month" wine, eloquence is not going to be my strong suit tonight).

As a child my husband had a hernia repair surgery and my M.D. from Google University led me to believe this was cause for concern. So, with this in mind, I went to le midwife recently and convinced her to temporarily ignore the "12 month rule" (more on that one later) and write me a script for a semen analysis, which I proudly brought home like a straight A report card.

Guys... you guys...  I was *really* excited about this.  See, I kind of love data. On top of that, I actually do work in healthcare.  So lab results, man, I'm all over lab results.  I no joke day dream about being able to run my own workup on my poor husband and I. 12 months of shooting in the dark (see what I did there?) - totally not my thing.

The basic procedure for a semen analysis (for those of you blessedly not in the know) can go one of two ways.  If you're lucky enough to live within 30 minutes of a lab that can evaluate your sample ::nudge nudge wink wink:: you can obtain said sample from the comforts of your own home.  If you don't live within the "still hot or it's on us" delivery range then you get the misfortune of having to "provide a sample" where untold number of men have "provided samples" in the past.  This thought did not thrill my husband.

So I started calling local labs to find out if there was one in range that could do a semen analysis.  The closest facility happened to be the one I worked at, but since they have recently merged with a Catholic hospital, they no longer provided the services we needed (apparently it makes god quite irate).  The only other place was just on the border of "drive-able in 30 minutes".  Crestfallen, I shared the news with my husband later that evening.

Much to my surprise, my husband (who at the time was playing Skyward Sword) was willing to give it a shot.

challenge accepted.

The rest of the details here are fuzzy (I left him to his own devices on this one... also, I've hit glass #3 of "oh dear god why is my uterus trying to turn itself inside out?" wine) but he got the job done.  A few days later we had our results.  My love is not shooting blanks!  Hooray!

So, that means in 5 more months, if we don't get knocked up, its cause there's totally something wrong with me.  hooray. =/

Drinking from an extremely opinionated firehose

In which I continue to explain myself.

ohgod, I'm so sorry I said sophie giraffe
was a little pricey for a teether,
please have mercy!

Someone once told me that if you want to start an argument, express an opinion online.  I think this is bullshit, she doesn't know what the fuck she's talking about.  In summation, tits or gtfo.

*ahem* I kid.

There are a few extremely hot button topics on the internet that you generally want to avoid if you're not looking to start a flame war (your standard politics, sex and religion for the most part).  However, in the course of my magical journey on the flying rainbow unicorn of gathering conception, pregnancy and parenting information online I have come to the conclusion that *nothing* turns a seemingly level headed adult into a rabid troll like expressing an opinion about conception, pregnancy and parenting.

Don't believe me?  Go over to facebook, pick a random babymamadrama page and post one of the following:

• "I get a little uncomfortable when I see someone breast feeding"
• "Women should be able to breast feed in public"
• "I'm having a homebirth"
• "I'm having a hospital birth"

Once you're done having that new asshole of yours stitched up, please head back over to this site.

Unfortunately that leaves those of us who try really hard to remain open minded and pragmatic online (read: avoid confrontation) standing in the middle trying to decide which screaming maniac to listen to.

I'm going to take on the tough decisions here, because I'm going to have to make them.  I'm going to weigh the options, look at both sides and explain my conclusion.  I'm not for a split second going to presume that this is what everyone should do, because (Sesame Street sponsored realization of the day!) everyone is different.  

And what I'm *definitely* not going to do, is call anyone who chooses another path a screaming fuckwit.  I really hope to be granted the same courtesy.

Eh, who am I shitting, I really hope someone comments at all.

If you don't find the humor in this, you will go insane

Another entry in the "why is this happening?!" category for this blog.

Not gonna lie, I'm a little jealous.

If you're not one of the lucky ones who conceives immediately without really trying, you're going to soon find yourself at a very pivotal crossroads. You'll be lying in bed, post meticulously scheduled coitus with your bare ass propped up in the air on pillows and one of two things is going to happen.  You're either going to grit your teeth, trestle that ass up a little higher, and think about your cervical fluid's pH, or you're going to start laughing so hard that you fall off your pillows.

Everything that goes in to actively *trying* to get pregnant is absolutely absurd.  Now I'm not saying that there isn't any foundation to the things we do to introduce Mr. Sperm to Ms. Ovum, what I am saying is that you have to laugh about it, or you will lose your mind.

We schedule sex like other people plan everyday errands.  "Honey, I'll need a hot meat injection on Thursday and Saturday, in the very least!"

Hooray, this is totally morning sickness!

We spend hours every month comparing body fluid to egg whites and elmer's school paste.  To do so, we non-recreationally finger ourselves several times a day.  And then we *talk about it*.  To our husbands and frankly, to anyone who will listen.  "Dry and pasty, just batting practice tonight!"

Throwing up changes from being a pretty seriously sucky experience to the *best* *thing* *evar*!!!!!!!  You literally feel like you are puking rainbows if you coincidentally get a stomach bug a few days after ovulation.

We temp, we chart, we over analyze the size of our boobs, and google things like "will eating pixie sticks during pregnancy make it difficult for my child to achieve its future career goals?".  This whole thing is madness.

So, while there may be some "very special" entries here, where I talk about serious topics, for the most part, my hope is to have a good laugh about it all.   Cause if you take it all too seriously, honestly... sometimes... it hurts too bad.

What - me jealous?

Trying to conceive is lonely business

The first in a series for those of you wondering why I started this blog and what it's all about. 

(KevinBee)

Early on in our baby-making process we decided not to make it general knowledge that we are regularly engaging in what around here we like to call goal-oriented fucking (or gof-ing, if you've drunk the ttcaka (trying to conceive acronym kool aid)), for several reasons:

First off, if not immediately successful, I was concerned about enduring several months of "hey, how's that apparently barren wasteland of a womb (abwoaw) of yours doing this menstrual cycle?" comments from friends, loved ones, co-workers, that judging bitch at CVS who sells me my pre-natals and pregnancy tests, etc.
Then there's the fact that the people I want to tell are likely to be emotionally invested too.  Nothing like dealing with future-grandma's crushing disappointment each month as I cry into my glass of wine/box of tampons (box of wine/glass of tampons?).

Also, I felt that the majority of the people I told would not be able to 100% empathize with the situation.  Everyone's journey is different; I may wind up dodging legos and matchbox cars on the way to a midnight diaper change or I may find myself tying balloons to the house to escape the crushing realities of childless old age.  Either way someone is thinking "thank god that's not me".  If I did find a fellow infertile myrtle to relate to, one of us is going to get knocked up first.  Hatred and jealousy will ensue.

Finally, it subconsciously forces people to realize I’m doing it.  On the regular.  Do you really want to see that realization behind the glassy stare your dad gives you as he smiles and says "greeeeaat!" through his teeth?  Seriously, they thought it all ended after the birds and the bees talk.  They just want to snuggle the grandkid, not confront the X-rated realities of how they got there.

Still, I feel the need to share.  To connect with other human beings in a low commitment, egocentric, no one gets hurt sort of way.  So, I'm embracing internet anonymity!  I vent, you read, we all grow and learn!  What could go wrong?