You’re a hard habit to break

Am I crazy?

Well, I AM sitting in bed typing this late at night while guzzling a sports drink. I just about had a coronary a few minutes ago soon after quenching my thirst realizing that I was inadvertently drinking Weight Watchers points.

Wait, let me use my nifty scanner on my iPad.

Oh damn, I just drank 4 points. Argh!

Habits, so hard to break.

Sigh…………, I’m back on the wagon. For the 2,566th time.

So while I’ve been spending time away from this place, life happens. This latest foray into weight control has no connection to a new years resolution. Rather, it’s a pure scared straight lesson for a middle-aged woman. I guess that’s what I am now, today… middle-aged…. If I happen to live to the age of 88.

Another birthday has solidified my need to do things differently.

Lately, I’ve been spending far more time in doctor’s offices and labs than normal. It appears that this may continue into the foreseeable future. No firm diagnosis yet, just chatter and prognostication.

Damn, I’ve always wanted to use the word “prognostication” in this blog. Yes!!
Another item on the bucket list.

I had a blood draw a few days ago, and I stumped the nursing staff when my best vein decided it would shut down between test tubes 5 and 6. I had 9 to fill, so they poked around in my bad arm. Made me wistful of the good ‘ole days at the RE office during infertility treatment. Those nurses knew my arms like they had a built-in GPS unit.

What I know for sure is I feel like I am 88. My muscles are so, so tender. My hair, well…you know… but now it pales in comparison to the other issues. Walking is a chore. It feels like I am trapped in a stranger’s body. I don’t know if losing weight will cure the diagnosis on the horizon, but I know it will help.

Thank goodness this situation hasn’t curbed my Internet use. (snicker)

So, there I go again. The only beast as big and scary as infertility is losing my health, and I’ll be damned if I take this next chapter of life laying down.

No pun intended.

I had thought about not posting any of these new developments here, but then, I thought… well…. I’ve already talked about the vag-cam for years, what the hell is the difference at this point.

I’m getting tired of thinking about blog posts in my head and never coming back here to type them.

So, for the handful of you still around, be forewarned, I am going UNFILTERED. I have no idea what I just meant there, but it sounded cool.

I’ve already blogged for 6 years here, what’s 44 more?

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

The Wheel

Somehow, I found my way to watching the VMA’s on MTV last night. I had just sat down on the recliner after mulling around and cleaning the kitchen.

Man, I was tired.

No sleep from the night before after standing guard during the hurricane (we survived just fine, btw, save for a few hellish tornado warnings). I felt like my weekend had passed in a blur. The whole week for that matter.. so many natural disasters!… so little time.

Anyway, I tuned in just as Beyonce was rubbing her newly pregnant belly. Of course, I’m sure she’s a nice and deserving mother-to-be, but I will freely admit that the image really hit a nerve.

As a knee jerk reaction I posted this on Twitter:

And then… I put down my iPad and cried.
It has been a long time since I had “that” feeling. It’s as if the world shrank into a teacup and I could feel my body sinking into it.  It’s been a long time since I registered such an intense reaction from a purely random event.  You would think several years after stopping infertility treatment, the pain would be a little less raw, but no.  It was a hell of a lot more like ripping a band-aid off an open wound at sonic speed.
I failed.
I can never redeem myself from the fact that I failed! I walked away from failure (although it felt a lot like running at times) and on days like yesterday I feel like I am barely capable of even crawling.
But worse than that I still suck at not letting my emotions overtake me when I see someone happy and pregnant.  There is no amount of self-discovery, therapy, or nachos that can deaden that insane feeling.  It’s ridiculous.  Why can I not move on from this??
I am a hamster on a wheel, always chasing, running, hoping to get somewhere and ending up back where I started.
I wished so hard that this feeling would go away, and I can say with certainty, now, that it will never go away. 
And I am just so damn tired of living with it.  So fucking tired.
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Beach Bummed

Well, July just flew by.

As promised I present you with photographic evidence of my spray tan. It looked great (ignore my mean face). Even coverage, no streaks, and no orange glow. I methodically used the blocker lotion on my hands, feet, knees and elbows as directed… and it was easy. Would definitely do it again, and especially for a unique occasion. For those of you who asked, the tan was via VersaSpa (not Mystic) and I chose the medium tone. I am intrigued to try the dark tone, but a little scared. Maybe on a week I know I don’t have to go anywhere just in case.

So, l took my new tan on the road to Hilton Head, SC for our 10 day vacation. Didn’t you wonder where I went?

We had a great time, as usual. This is the 6th year we’ve made the 12 hour drive. Sure, there was bitching and moaning being trapped in the car and dreaming of an exit on I-95 with a Starbucks, but the pain is worth it in the end when we see the sign that takes us to our home away from home.

David was like a boy obsessed this year. For one, he couldn’t wait until he got the opportunity to go crabbing off the pier at the resort. He and hubby caught five blue crabs (catch and release), and they were in heaven. I particularly don’t get the enjoyment of standing in the sun over a creek with fish smell lingering in the air, but to each is own.

Secondly, after David spent a week trying to make friends at the pool, he met a girl (insert oohs and aahs and curious eye rolling here). Is this when it starts, age 8?? Really? Goodness. Unfortunately, their courtship was short-lived.. she left the next day. However, he had a ball and I got a new friend too… her mother is the same age as myself and through conversation I found that she had her daughter via fertility treatment. We traded war stories, and it was really unexpected.  It was like meeting a mirror image of me, and so glad I got the opportunity to chat with her. Thank goodness for Facebook to stay in touch. Sadly, David is left only with a picture of himself and his new friend-  plotting how he might charter a boat to see his southern sweetie. I am still trying to help him understand that TN is not on the coast. lol.

We spent most of our days poolside, and if you follow me on Twitter, I posted a few pics along the way.

We were almost too lazy to spend time physically ON the beach. Too much preparing and effort. Plus, I admit it, I hate getting sandy.  Hate it.  However, we did take walks and collected seashells.

The thing I love about HHI is the relaxation factor. It’s the only place I’ve vacationed where I feel truly rested.

After all the turbulence this year, I wanted that feeling more than ever. Problem is, once I shut down it’s hard to boot back up. We got home on Monday and I’ve spent the last 48 hours walking into walls and navigating my foggy brain through the day.
The reality of being home was kind of a downer. You all know the feeling. Back to the grind, and to-do lists.

Speaking of  to-do’s, I am making a doctor’s appointment for myself this week. Been feeling off for the last few weeks and some oddness going on with my fingernails looking weird and my hair falling out in bunches (has been for the last 6 weeks). The hair loss is worrying me.  Really bad.  I am asking for a thyroid panel at my regular doctor when I get in, among other things. Surely, five years of shooting up hormones hasn’t affected my endocrine system, right?!? I can only guess the crap my body is going to give to me now after putting it though so much over the years.

For naught of course.  Another post for another day.

So, I am back, sort of. Give me a minute and a latte and I will be ready to rock and roll.

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Not a Fairytale: National Infertility Awareness Week

“You have plenty of time to try to get pregnant!”

That statement still makes me shudder and quiver with anger and regret.

This time last year, I was in a very dark place when I penned my thoughts surrounding Infertility Awareness Week. I was six months out from my last failed donor IVF cycle- THE last cycle I would ever embark on.

I wondered if I could ever capture happiness again.

Looking back, I am still mired in regret. Let’s be honest here… when you are in the muck of infertility’s grip it’s very hard to see forward into the future or assess the past. It’s hard enough to live in the present.  The difference for me between this year and last year is time.  Time and space to think about the actions I’ve taken on my own infertility journey with a fresh perspective.

Did I do enough? Yes, I would say I did. I exhausted every medical procedure from IUI to IVF to IVF with donor eggs. I drained my savings.  I had five miscarriages along the seven years, countless medical procedures to attempt to diagnose and “fix” what was wrong only to end with no success and a still “unexplained” diagnosis.

But I tried.

My biggest regret is that I did not educate myself early enough around the concept of fertility.
The biggest myth that still haunts me?
That I thought I had time.
…that I could put off having children to grow my career and invest in individual pursuits. That there was no expiration date on my fertility.
This myth sadly perpetuated by well-meaning (but unfounded) opinions from our own social circles that it was okay to wait to build a family.
…from the Media, that carried the same message that “older” moms are becoming the”new normal”.
…even our own doctors often failed us by not stressing the time clock was indeed limited. That female fertility starts a precipitous decline after age 27. That eggs have a “shelf-life”.

My body failed me… not on purpose but rather by nature.

I am the ugly side of infertility.

I am not the happy-ending to the fairytale.

But it’s not all bad.

Ironically, I now consider myself a self-taught expert on the subject of fertility, or lack of it. Because the journey did not end in the way I imagined, I share my knowledge with anyone that will listen.  I bust the myths around fertility every day to at least save another from walking a similar path.  There is no sugar-coating the truth.
This is the only positive way I’ve found to channel the emotions I still have, and always will carry with me.

Fertility is NOT forever.

But we can make a difference in understanding and acknowledging it.


Understand infertility: Visit Resolve.

National Infertility Awareness Week (NIAW) is April 24th through April 30th: Take Charge.

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