Hope and Hunger; or, How I Spent My Winter Vacation

So here we all are. Back together again. New year, same us. Four days in and I'm all ready to sum up 2011 with one word: Hungry.

That's probably because I began an intense 28-day detox/cleanse yesterday, the day we traveled home from the Bahamas, and I have had no wheat, soy, eggs, corn, dairy, alcohol, caffeine, packaged foods, or added sugar in the last 24 hours. I started taking 150 mgs of Clomid a night the day before the cleanse began. So I'm malnourished, hormonal, and travel-fatigued: yup, about ready to rip off my own arm and eat it raw with just a little salt. After I finish typing this post, I'm off to the grocery store to stock up on all the things I'm allowed to eat during these weeks of torture disguised as self-improvement.

But I'm hungry for a lot of things right now, not all of them carbs. I'm hungry for success and accomplishment and satisfaction. I want to feel good about myself again, inside and outside (but today, strangely, mostly inside). I want to feel again like I'm the girl who goes after her dreams and wins. I want to look at my reflection with pride instead of disappointment.

But where was I? Of course, How I Spent My Winter Vacation. In all the lovely ways one would expect: with lots of reading and sitting by the pool or beach and drinking rum cocktails and dressing up for dinner and getting a massage and even hitting the gym multiple times. True to lovely form, my period showed up on New Year's Eve, which part of me wanted to take as an awesome sign that this was the LAST period of 2010 and there won't be any in 2011 and part of me wanted to take as a dreadful sign that the next year will just be one failed cycle after another.

But it wasn't a sign of anything except the fact that I'd ovulated 14 days before and wasn't pregnant, so I stopped thinking about it as soon as I could.

That night, we ate at a great sushi restaurant and then Lawyer Guy played blackjack while I drank and cheered him on (I don't mind watching other people gamble--even with our joint money--but I don't like doing it myself) and then we got more drinks and watched the fireworks over the harbor at midnight.

And I remembered that last year, I felt such relief when the calendar switched over and in the days later, even an incredible joy. Losing our m&m at the end of 2009 was such a deep stain on the year that I couldn't wait to change the clocks and switch the date to something that was bound to be better and happier. I had a whole year to get pregnant again, and I was certain it would happen.

And now I've got no certainty and not always much optimism, and I felt such failure as the yachts all around us started blowing their horns and people were cheering. One whole year later with nothing to show for it and me no closer to my dreams.*

*And of course there's much to show, and of course I'm closer every day, but that didn't matter at the time.

We kissed, and I started to cry a little, and I know LG was worried and a little frustrated that we'd been having a good time and all those inconvenient feelings had to rise to the surface, so I pushed them back down and looked back over the water and thought to myself:

"Okay, 2011. Do your worst."

Which was perhaps the sort of blithe dare I should have learned by now not to make, considering all the evidence I have of fate's awful sense of humor (and all the fairy tales I read as a kid). Maybe, at about 2 minutes and 30 seconds into the new year I doomed myself to twelve months of disaster. But I still feel invigorated when I think the words to myself. I feel strong and competent and resourceful and all the things I want to be because it's abundantly clear that 2009 couldn't break me and 2010 couldn't break me and 2011 won't either, whatever the tricks it has hidden in it's New Year's top hat.

Wait No More; or, Right Place, Right Time

Some days, you find yourself in exactly the right place at the right time to hear what you need to hear.

This morning, I was 15 dpiui with no sign of AF. I'd been expecting to start spotting every day since Friday, but despite the delay I wasn't feeling optimistic about this cycle. If my boobs felt dense and hard (and very, very pregnant-like) with last month's beta of 12.5, I knew that my utterly normal-feeling chest didn't suggest anything promising. But still, as each day slowly ticked by, a little spark of hope grew brighter and brighter. My period was late, really officially late, and I hoped as hard as I could that this meant something, even as I told myself and suspected it didn't.

Then, shortly before I left for church, I saw it: the faintest sign of discoloration on my toilet paper. The confirmation that Clomid had indeed given me a longer luteal phase, but that a healthy pregnancy still eluded me.

I jumped in the shower trying unsuccessfully to keep from crying. Over ninety million sperm were injected right into my uterus and they still couldn't match up with an egg. What possible chance could anything short of IVF have of working for us? I felt so tired and worn out and sick of trying and so hopeless. But I got myself dressed and dragged myself to church, anyway.

The priest's homily was about patience and about the tension he identified between living with longing and living with the understanding that we cannot control whether or not we achieve what we long for. The Gospel reading was about waiting for God's time and trusting in his love for us.

I'd been making bargains with God all week. "Just let me get through tonight without spotting," I prayed on Friday as Lawyer Guy and I arrived at his brother and sister-in-law's house, "and I promise that I won't complain when I get my period tomorrow." Even as I said it, I knew I was a liar. And of course, making it through the family even without my period wasn't enough.

But sitting in church, I realized that the priest was right. I do have faith that I will be a mother one day, despite all evidence to the contrary. And I want to live in a place of patience and peace amidst all this terrible, overwhelming longing.

We're going to pick out and decorate our tree tonight. Yesterday LG and I booked a trip to the Bahamas over New Year's Eve. I've got two weeks left of the semester and Christmas to look forward to and operas to attend. I'm going to survive this. One day, this struggle will be over, and I'm going to do my best to find a place of peace in my heart until we get there.

Jet-Lag; or, CD 1

Just a quick post to say that I live, I breathe, I bleed!

(Is this too much info for my first post back? Should I have reacquainted you with my charming ovaries and lining-rich--yet frustratingly barren!--uterus with chatter about the lovely efficacy of diflucan? Sorry, but AF showed up today somewhere between Greenland and New Foundland and her bitchiness tends to be catching).

Overall, though, the trip was lovely. I highly recommend spending every 1 week wait in Europe, if at all possible. Unless you live in Europe. Then I'd recommend Asia.

I'll post plenty of pictures soon (Lawyer Guy was instructed to take several clever face-disguising shots just for blogging use), but right now I need to watch last week's Mad Men before some cretin spoils it for me or I go into convulsions from Don Draper withdrawal. Then I need to continue ignoring the 1,000+ e-mails in my inbox by going to sleep.

Half-Full Rose-Colored Glasses; or, Cycle Day One

Yesterday, I sent Lawyer Guy an e-mail giving him the heads up that I'd started spotting and would be getting my period soon. I told him I loved him and tried to keep an upbeat and encouraging tone; he told me he loved me and that we'd get through this. I had an event last night that prevented me from getting home until late (by which time AF had taken up residence), and when I walked through the door, Lawyer Guy confessed that he'd been sitting alone feeling sadder and sadder that this cycle didn't work out.

As I've written before, it hurts to see Lawyer Guy taking our troubles so much to heart. But as I hugged him and tried to put on an optimistic attitude, I was also glad that he felt comfortable enough to share this with me. Six months ago, he wouldn't have. Six months ago, he was worried that I was an emotional hurricane waiting to happen and needed to be handled oh-so gently lest I break out in another storm. I'm glad that he feels that his fears and sadness deserve equal weight with mine, and I'm glad to be able to give him some of the support he's given me the last eight months.

While I put on as positive a face as possible--for his benefit and my own--I'm feeling pretty worried under the surface. Maybe "we did it once" doesn't actually count for shit in the reproductive stakes. Maybe "it's bound to happen sometime" is a big fat lie. But we've only got two or so more months until we start testing with an RE in the fall, so I'd like to be as positive and happy during these two months as possible.

And in the service of that goal, I decided to think of reasons to be grateful right now. Not just reasons to be grateful for my life generally, which I am and which I have listed before, but specifically reasons to be grateful for the difficulties that we've faced in trying to have a child. I'm grateful for this challenging time because:

- I believe I will be a better mother for it. I believe I will appreciate and maybe even enjoy my children more than I would have if they had come easy.

- I will never wonder "what I missed" by having children. I will never feel cheated of youth, of time with my husband, of my career. I know what is most important in my life and in my heart, and it's not amazing career opportunities or nights out on the town or a stunning physique (which I've already lost). It's being a mother and having a family with Lawyer Guy.

- I will never use birth control again. Score!

- Lawyer Guy and I have both decided that we will welcome as many children into our lives as we are lucky enough to conceive. For a long time, I wanted a large family while he wanted no more than two children. But after the last eighteen months, we both agree that we will be grateful and thrilled with any "oopsie" pregnancies that come along, something I can guarantee would not have been the case with him if we hadn't lost the m&m or struggled to conceive afterward. And given my age and our recent track record, I think we can all safely assume LG and I are not going to turn into the Duggards of the 21st century.

- I've stopped caring so much about the petty, superficial aspects of parenthood. I used to want the best stroller and crib set and bedding and preschools and diaper bag that money could buy. That all seems so pointless now.

- Lawyer Guy and I have grown as husband and wife and as friends. We've worked through some incredibly upsetting situations that might have derailed other couples and have found ways to build a stronger relationship through them. We have become even closer and more intimate as partners. We've learned to grieve with each other and laugh with each other through our grief. And we've also learned how to handle when our feelings don't match up, when one of us is sadder or angrier or more worried or more frustrated than the other. After almost ten years together, I didn't think it was possible for our relationship to grow like this so quickly, but it has and I am so grateful for that.

I don't know what comes next: if we'll get to testing, to treatments, to a pregnancy (and healthy baby) in months or years. But I'm going to try to keep growing closer to my husband and making our marriage the center of everything we do (even our fertility treatments). Today, I feel confident that ten years from now, this will feel less like wasted time and more like the sturdy foundation for beautiful family.

Bitch Stole My Bagel...Again!; or, Welcome to My Black Hole

Does my empty uterus emit high-pitched signals audible only to pregnant women when I'm PMSing? Is that why they like to announce their happy expectations to me right before I start my pre-period spotting? CAN I PLEASE HAVE ONE FUCKING MONTH WITHOUT HAVING TO ACT EXCITED ABOUT SOMEONE ELSE'S UTE FRUIT???

The faint brown spotting started today, 13 dpo. AF will start tomorrow. At least this is predictable. At least I didn't feed my stupid, pointless hopes by taking a pregnancy test.

Not so predictable was the email I got yesterday from the incoming co-chair of my Junior League committee entitled "News!" Oh, I definitely waited about an hour before opening it.

Sigh. Of course she's pregnant. Of course she's due on November 18th: the fucking anniversary of my d&c. Of course she's going to be giving birth and going on maternity leave right when I'm planning to take my oral exam and was counting on her to pick up the slack for me. Of course I'm going to have to carry the committee on my back all year, when I'm trying to become ABD (All But Dissertation, the last stage of the PhD process) AND when I'll most likely be undergoing fertility treatments.

And sure, she's a few years older than me, so maybe in one sense it's "her turn." But she WASN'T EVEN MARRIED YET when we started trying. In the sixteen months that we've managed to conceive one non-viable pregnancy, she was engaged, got married, went on a honeymoon, spent some time as a couple with her husband, got knocked up, and gestated to the point where she can announce it.

And now I have to work with her all summer while her fucking belly grows and arrange things to accommodate her pregnancy and I'm just pissed off about the whole situation.

COCKSUCKINGMOTHERFUCKINGSONOFABITCHGODDAMNPIECEOFSHITASSMUNCHINGCUNTWIPINGFUCKBALLS!!

Sorry about that.

The worst of it was the sound of the silence on the other end of the phone this morning when I told Lawyer Guy I started spotting. Just pure devastation. I thought it was hard back when I was the only one worried, the only one stressing, but this is 1000% worse. If Mr. I'm Not Going To Worry Until There's a Reason to Worry thinks we're doomed, we're really screwed. And I just feel so guilty. Especially because I know he's worried that this is his fault. Oh, this sucks from top to bottom.

It's not all bad, and I do know that. We booked the trip to Scandinavia last night-- seven days in Copenhagen and Stockholm in August. A last blast before we meet with the RE. And yesterday afternoon, FedEx delivered a package from my best friend, Doctor Lady--a beautiful bouquet of flowers to let me know that she's thinking of me as what would have been the m&m's due date approaches. I started to cry when I opened them, shocked that she remembered the month when I haven't spoken of it once since the miscarriage. I felt so alone, thinking I was the only person who remembered I could have had a baby in a few weeks, the only person on earth who still thought about my baby and grieved the life that he or she never got to live. I know how blessed I am to have a friend like this.

And I promise that I'll be okay tomorrow. I'll pick my spirits back up and start drinking my tea again and peeing on sticks and hoping that this will be the month. And I'll schedule some RE appointments and mark them in my calendar and hope that we'll get pregnant in the next two cycles and tell myself it's okay if we don't.

And I'll study and write papers and go to Father's Day dinner with my inlaws and help my parents move out of my childhood home and go to a Mets game with my husband and tell him every day how much I love him and walk my dog.

But right now, I need to revisit my friend, the sobbing bridesmaid:

The Games We Play; or, Positive Bullsh!t

Today's CD 1 so it's time to play everybody's favorite game, "How Much Positive Bullshit Can Sloper Come Up With To Make Herself Not Cry." Last month I sadly lost-- too many cycles out of the game left me rusty and unprepared. But with some serious training over the past 34 days, I'm proud to report that I'm in better form than ever and cleaning up the field with ease.

Without further ado, I present: The Positive Bullshit

1. "I didn't want a December baby anyway. Sharing your birthday month with Christmas (and your father, cousin, and aunt) would really suck." +1 point

2. "Everyone else I know had a late 2009 or is having a 2010 baby: 2011 belongs to me! Suck on that, bitches!" +5 points

3. "I'm glad I'll get pregnant with the sticky baby after I turn 30. 29 was a shittastic year, so 30 will obviously be the bomb." + 3 points

4. "Now I can take my orals and teach all of Fall '10 without worrying about the baby coming early." + 1 point

5. "Back in January, I secretly thought to myself that I would have a January baby." + 10 points (if it happens); - 5 points (if it doesn't)

I admit that "owning" 2011 among my family members is the strongest piece of Positive Bullshit, which makes me petty and greedy, but I don't care. They can all suck a big turd and send me giant presents when I give birth, because I'm clearly taking on all the fertility troubles allotted to this family so they can breeze through and pop out easy baby after easy baby. Presents, dammit. Presents!

In the meantime, this Easter will consist of church with some of my sisters, followed by brunch and several huge Bloody Marys, rather than putting together an Easter basket for my husband (who LOVES them in a way that his Jewish ancestors would likely not appreciate) and slipping a positive pee stick among the cellophane grass. I know, cute right? The little bunny holding the hpt? The jelly-bean filled plastic eggs announcing our little Easter egg?

Darn it, where's that Positive Bullshit again?

Coping; or, Things that Make Me Happy Today*

1) It may sound odd to say it, but I sense spring in the air. The birds have a different quality to their chirping and the sun has a mellower cast in the mornings. I can feel that winter is on its way out.

2) Snow. While this may contradict the previous statement, I love seeing my neighborhood blanketed in snow and I am thrilled we've had so much this winter. If it has to be winter, at least it's a pretty one.

3) Morning. My college-aged self would be appalled, but I like getting up at 7:30 every day now. The light has a hopeful, bashful tinge to it that it doesn't at any other time of day. It feels like a secret, stolen interlude with my husband every time we walk together down quiet, just-waking streets.

4) Jane Eyre. I have to finish the book today to present on it tomorrow. What a chore, right?

5) We're taking my father-in-law and his wife out to dinner for their birthdays tonight. We're going to this place (one of the best restaurants in Brooklyn, if not the city as a whole).

6) Yellow Tulips. I bought them on Friday, and my kitchen looks bright and cheerful.

7) My husband. He's making us breakfast burritos as I type.

*CD 1. Looks like I'm taking my Orals before I have a baby, after all. Which is also a good thing.

Be It Ever So Humble; or, Two Weeks Later

Ahhhhhh.

Did you hear that? That is the sound of a relaxed Sloper following two massages, four islands, and ten days away. I am tan(ner, anyway), rested, and ready as I'll ever be for the upcoming semester.

Did you miss me? Because I missed you guys! I missed hearing about your treatments, your pregnancies, your plans. It was good to be gone, but I'm glad to be back.

I'm also glad that I got my period on the trip, just a little. Oh, I cried a bit when I first started spotting and moped on the day she showed up. But unlike my last "period", which may have just been further post d&c spotting, this was unmistakable. (Honestly, I've never bled that much in my life!) I feel like my body is finally back on track, I feel good about where we've been and where we're going, and hopeful about the trip to get there.

I've got some exciting plans for the next few months: health and fitness ideas, school and teaching goals, home improvement projects, and a big-ass 30th birthday in May. It's going to be a good spring, and I'm ready for what comes next.

Staring at Six; or, I'd Start to Worry If I Hadn't Already Started to Worry

I'm 29 days into my sixth cycle. I'm 2 to 6 days away from getting my period and starting another one. My boobs are bigger, my stomach bloated, and the cramps are slight but definitely there. It's coming.

I really thought I'd be pregnant by now. I tell myself I'll be pregnant within the next six. I worry I'm wrong.

At least I get to buy a fun, expensive toy to pee on in a week or so. Doctor's orders!