Said NO TTC Woman Ever…

I am sure this has been done before, but I wanted to start my own segment of “Said NO TTC Woman Ever…”  There are just some things that will never ever be uttered by any woman who goes through what we go through.  Here are some that come to mind.  Feel free to comment with any additions!

Said NO TTC Woman Ever…

1. “Oh, phew!  I got my period!”

2. “It’s been ages since I’ve had bloodwork done.”

3. “I  can’t wait to attend ____’s baby shower.”

4. “How does this pregnancy test work?”

5. “I’m not sure when my period is due.”

6. “At least we’re having fun trying!”

Any you’d like to add?  


Smell the Roses

Warning: This post is uninspired.

Ever so slightly spotting this AM. The tell tale mild cramps. There’s no denying it now. I’m glad I held out testing (12 dpo today); I don’t think I can handle any more stark white sticks. Those things are so mean.

I knew this wasn’t going to be my month. It’s strange, but since I have been under a doctor’s care, I have felt like I know how it will play out:
Feb. (medicated, good old BD) BFN
March (medicated, IUI) BFN
April (medicated, IUI) BFN
—————Future Cycle Predictions


Let’s just say, I will need to be patient for a bit longer, but my time will come.

In the meantime, the next few weeks are going to be extremely busy, and I am looking forward to many things:
1) Closing on our new house next week!
2) Martinis!
3) School Musical (I direct it and it’s a BIG FULL SCALE production)
4) wine, wine, wine
6) Did I mention the martinis and wine? (without the guilt)
7) losing 5 pounds by summer (in spite of the martinis and wine)

Have to keep moving forward, and HAVE to remember to smell the roses along the way…

Copping a Feel

Anyone who walked by my classroom today when there were no students present, may have caught me copping a feel.

Once I hit 8dpo, I start feeling myself up like crazy. I can’t help it.

It’s actually less “feeling up,” and more “giving a little poke.”  I start compulsively pushing in at the sides of my boobs.  The 8dpo and beyond “tenderness test.”

Do they feel the same as last month?  Are they more tender?  Less tender?  Is it a fuller feeling?  Are those women who say that they couldn’t even roll over on their stomachs because of nipple tenderness for real?  Why don’t my nipples feel like that?  I must not be pregnant.  Or does the lack of boob related symptoms actually mean that maybe I am? Was that a cramp near my uterus? Oh, #@!& it… I’ll just eat some ice cream.

The thing is, I don’t even know what I’m feeling for.  Do I want them to be tender, or not?!?  So, I assess the situation (poke, poke, squeeze)… and then I go back in my fertility calendar and compare the feeling I have today to every single other month at this dpo (please tell me you do this too!).  And I hope for an aberration.

Today I found one. So now I’m hanging on to this tiny thread of hope.  By 8 or 9 dpo, I am usually in PMS mode (…usually…).  Boobs are usually starting to give me my first sign of AF, but today…

i.  feel.  nothing.

And I AM SURE it means absolutely nothing.  Or maybe, the meds are lengthening my luteal phase like they are supposed to, which is a good thing.  But it’s certainly not a good indication of pregnancy.  If there is one thing that I have learned with any degree of certainty from stalking the BabyCenter forums, it is that there is no such thing as an early pregnancy symptom that you can be sure of.  There is so much variation, not just woman to woman, but from month to month within the same woman.

There just is no way of knowing until your BFP — and even then, between evap lines and non doubling beta numbers, sometimes you still don’t even really know.  I have yet to even get to that point.  I hope the big fat nothing I feel right now will at least lead me to the next level of uncertainty.  Sounds more promising than AF.  She’s a you-know-what.

Resolve to Know More about Keeping a Sense of Humor with Infertility

Thanks, @maybemamamcnabb, for this eloquent post! I’m going to picture my husband as a set of drawers from now on… especially when he’s irritating me!!!

Love, Marriage, Still No Baby Carriage

Infertility is tough.

Infertility is stressful.

Infertility is an easy journey to “lose yourself” in.

That is why it is so important to me to keep a sense of humor.  Not a sick, twisted sense of humor, but to be able to laugh at jokes that will lighten a mood after a particularly tough day, or to be able to play with your spouse after a tense conversation or situation.

My husband is a VERY laid-back kind of guy.  Our counselor likens men’s emotions/thought processes to a chest of drawers.  While women are capable of having multiple drawers open at a time, men can have one – and only one – drawer open at a time.

The “I’m hungry, what’s to eat?” drawer.  The “I’m tired and want to zone out to the TV” drawer.  The “I wonder how my wife is feeling and how I can make her feel better” drawer. …

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Growing up, I was in a children’s theater group. We performed two full scale musical productions a year. At the start of each new show, we had auditions, which were followed by the dreaded 1 Week Wait.

It was grueling. We came from all over central jersey to participate in this group, so most of us didn’t go to the same school. The week was full of phone calls, notes (the old fashioned kind, handwritten and expertly folded into a tiny little origami triangle), and more phone calls. Now, mind you, we couldn’t actually pass the notes to one another until we saw each other the following Saturday, but there was something therapeutic about writing them. There were no online blogs back then.

So we spent the week speculating, and over analyzing (“well, I messed up the dance audition a bit, but the part I want doesn’t dance much, so I doubt it will matter…”), and praying, and wishing, and making deals with a higher power for the parts we wanted. We tried to talk ourselves down to reality, in case our dreams did not come true. But even if you knew in your heart that you weren’t going to get your dream part, you held on to hope nonetheless.

Then, the big day arrived. The waiting was finally over. Soon, you would know the outcome and there would be no turning back. The hopes you had held on to all week would either be realized or shattered. The director handed out script by script, announcing each person’s part, in turn. Some shows, your wildest dream came true and there was nothing more glorious than hearing your name attached to the leading role you had been hoping for, and seeing it written on the script in your hands. Other years, you could feel your heart sink into your stomach the moment your hopes were shattered. And then of course there was the putting on a smile and forced support for your friends who DID get the parts they wanted. It wasn’t that you weren’t happy for them, it was just that you were so devastated for yourself.

I can not help but draw parallels between that dreaded 1 week wait, and this dreaded 2 week wait. Of course now, instead of twice a year, it’s 12 times a year, and I have yet to receive good news at the end of it. Nonetheless, I always find some hope to hold on to.

At 7dpo today, I have one week to go… and I sure hope I get the part I want…

Sunday Snuggles

This is what I woke up to this morning:

(and yes, that is my thigh she has comfortably chosen as a pillow).

Confession: I’m obsessed with my dog. We adopted her 2 and a half years ago and she is definitely the most important thing in the world to me, along with my family. I never understood how people could feel this way about an animal until we had her home. (P.S. I’m still skeptical about cat people, but that’s another story – 😉 ). This precious pup’s name is Macie, and I can say with 100% certainty that she is the cutest, most intelligent, fastest, most fun dog on the planet. Note: I allow myself to think and say these things about my dog, openly, knowing full well that I will never say these things about my future human children. I tell my family that it’s helping me to get it out of my system now. Bottom line, we’ve created a princess and we love her with every fiber in our souls.

At this point, I’d like to point out how scary this is, because she is, after all, a dog. I can not fathom how I will feel when it is a baby – that I created – napping in my lap. And this is how I know, even before I really know, how utterly life changing being a mother is. And I don’t mean in the obvious ways, but down to the core of your being.

I so look forward to the day when I can understand this maternal feeling first hand… but for now, I will treasure these quiet Sunday snuggles with my best girl.

Please Don’t Call


There is one day during each cycle on which I cross my fingers and hope NOT to hear from my doctor. Today is that day. Today is progesterone day. My doctor’s office only calls if your numbers are low and they want you to start supplements. It is 4:45 and I haven’t heard from them yet, so fingers crossed…

I’m 4 dpiui and this 2ww is soooo slow. I’m on spring break and I’m grateful for some down time, but on the other hand… (Oh, believe me; it’s not that I don’t have a mile high pile of paperwork, but you can guess my progress on that…)

I used to get nervous to have bloodwork done, but since TTC, that has obviously become a thing of the past!

… Til it’s Pink

Tonight R and I went into the city and I had a drink drinks. 2, to be exact. I’m only mildly sorry about this. I guess I’m prescribing to “drink til it’s pink” for now.

I have a hard time putting life on hold for a “maybe baby.” I’m not going out and getting sloshed or anything like that, and most of the time that wonderful Clomid / HCG cocktail headache reminds me pretty fervently that I really shouldn’t be drinking anyway.

There are different schools of thought on this one so each of us IF ladies needs to make her own decision. I read in a few places that more than 4 drinks per week is linked to infertility. R and I are big foodies and we enjoy our, achem, beverages… but having read the research, I have definitely cut back! I have also read that a glass of red wine each night might help with implantation, so obviously that is what I’m choosing to listen to. The millisecond I see that BFP, not a sip of anything alcoholic will pass my lips, but until then… let the wine flow!

Do you abstain, or drink til it’s pink?


Way to take your mind off of TWW if you have an anxiety disorder and emetaphobia (fear of vomiting):

Wake up to DH having stomach issues when you KNOW everyone has been catching that terrible stomach bug lately. DH knows well enough than to admit he feels sick (“I’m just uncomfortable…”), but there’s no fooling an emetaphobe.

I’d rather be obsessing over 2ww…