WTTTC

It’s the new acronym for Jen – Waiting to Try to Conceive. Sure, it’s a mouthful but it’s soo apropos!

 

So, I’m being a little cheeky. But here I’m reading all these wonderful, heartfelt blogs of women actually going through the process of getting pregnant and here I am, waiting. Yeah, yeah, I can bitch and moan about waiting. Woe is Jen with her poop sandwich cervix. Woe is us for waiting nearly a year for waiting for any sort of results on genetic testing…

 

But until I have my hubby poking needles in my ass, I have nothing that compares with what you gorgeous ladies of blogging are going through. And is it bad that I totally had the gorgeous ladies of wrestling theme running through my head when I typed that? And please, please tell me someone else as a child used to watch that…

 

So I am trying not to bitch as much. Now, I don’t think I’m going to be this amazing ray of sunshine for everyone all the time. However, I should try to only bitch when absolutely necessary.

 

Or, when some pregnant lady gives me a dirty look.

Hey Jealousy

That stupid Gin Blossoms song keeps running through my mind. Not the bit about driving all around town while the cops chase us around, but that refrain (or whatever musically you call it), “hey jealousy.”

Going forward, I really think I should have my name be Jealousy not Jen. And I totally aged myself in being able to remember that song too…

Last night, I went to dinner with my 30-week pregnant BFF and our spouses. Dinner was fine aside from the fact she is looking crazy big pregnant while all I can boast is a fup down there and that I now have a complex about my lip.

“Jenny, why is your lip fat? Did you get hit in the mouth? What is on your lip?” asks my bff’s baby daddy. I whip out my compact. Oh no, it’s just the slight red from my enchilada sauce and the freckle that has been on my lip forever. I’m a redhead I have freckles everywhere. But apparently, this freckle appears to have engorged my lips and looks like I have some growth to those across the table. Awesome.

So a kick-ass way to start to the weekend, needless to say.

We come home and I flop on the bed and ask my hubby to cuddle. He asks what is wrong and I reply with the “I’m fine” response that so says I am not. I then proceed to tell him, it’s the same thing that always is wrong and the same thing we can do nothing about. Babies.

I finally composed myself enough to end the rest of my exciting Friday night by finishing my bff’s baby shower invites – printing them just so on each polka dot page, using pink ink to address the envelopes. Like I’ve said before, if I can’t have my perfect life, at least I’ll be a perfect host with the perfect house – or so I can endeavor.

Yet I am still mad at myself over my jealousy of her. Her pregnancy. Her happiness. Why can’t I let go of my feelings of inadequacy? Why can’t I stop being so selfish in thinking always about my womb?

It has gotten easier as her pregnancy has gone on. I have been able to just come to the fact that no matter what I can’t be pregnant right now. It doesn’t make the hurt feel any less painful but I am really trying to be a good friend. I am happy for her. I am excited to see ultrasound pictures, pick out the crib bedding and give my two cents on paint color. I am just sad I can’t stop being jealous of all those pregnant bellies out there. I know it’s probably normal but I really tire of being Jealous Jen all the time.

Tunnel vision

I doubt I am alone in my single-minded focus on baby making. But it seems so often I forget to appreciate what I do have and instead I fret, worry, cry, dream and think about the missing children in my life.

This, in turn, makes me fret, worry, cry and think about all the people and things in my life I am neglecting. And I haven’t even really started down the IVF road yet. I don’t want to think about how scatterbrained I’ll really become at work when I’m actually waiting for an egg retrieval…

It is amazing to me though that I know I can’t do anything until June on moving forward with IVF but, here I am, in late April solely focused on babies. It’s at the front of my mind – always.

Even sitting here in limbo, consciously knowing I can’t do anything, I still doodle baby names, still look at those chic sites offering $65 t-shirts with a hot bun in an oven picture and dream of how and when I’ll announce we are pregnant.

Pregnant bellies are taunting me, the grins and giggles of little ones making me smile and cringe simultaneously. And I’ve only been living this “hell” since February 2006 when we started the genetic testing phase. Again, I am going to be a total freak show drama queen when I actually get going.

Throughout this I’ve been surrounded by my ever-wonderful, ever-understanding husband and friends. I am trying to be good to them, listening to their problems, supporting their needs and I don’t think I’m doing enough.

I think I realize I’ll never be fully happy until I am a mom. It isn’t fair to those around me and, too, it’s not fair to me. There aren’t any guarantees on this ART train ride.

But I don’t know what else to do or how to find true happiness that doesn’t come in the form of a newborn.

And forget about being a total freak show drama queen then, I think I’m already there!

Tag, I’m It?

Yesterday, in my usual round of reading, I was utterly surprised and humbled at the words of Miss A. at A Somewhat Ordinary Life. As a newbie to this whole IF world and a somewhat outsider to it, I was beyond words when she nominated me as one of the blogs that make her think (or, more accurately, as one of the blogs yet untagged as one that makes her think).

I started my blog in a wholly selfish manner, a way for me to find comfort, advice and camaraderie in what we’re going through in an effort for children. What I found is beyond what I could ever have imagined – a diverse, fascinating community of women who have endured much greater struggles than I have in our efforts toward parenthood yet who are so amazingly supportive, sweet and thoughtful in my little struggles and frequent bitch fests. Everyone’s honesty, humor and expression of emotion is inspiring.

In an effort to return the favor, it’s my turn to send a shout out to some of my favorite thinking/make me laugh/make me cry blogs out there.

Our IVF Journey – I always find myself a little less alone after reading Mary Ellen’s blog. Like us, she and her husband will be doing PGD for genetic reasons, which forged an immediate connection with me. I find her optimism contagious. Even when she says she’s down, she always seems to have a glimpse of that silver lining, to have a drop of hope that I can only try to emulate.

A Somewhat Ordinary Life – I know, cheating. But I find Miss A.’s writing echoes a lot of the feelings I am experiencing but a lot of the times I don’t have the courage to say and for which I greatly admire her.

The Opposite of Knocked Up – You know you are in for a good read when Melissa actually posts a picture of herself in stirrups. Her humor aside, Melissa’s frank writing about her ups and downs makes me forget and shake my head at how young she is (yes, 26 is young) and how much she’s already endured.

All I Need is One Good Egg – Again, it’s humor and honesty rolled into one. K’s Baby-palooza 2007 is a great read from the ups and downs she and her husband have endured into trying to get pregnant as well as how she managed to plant a First Response tree outside her kitchen window.

What Have I Done For Me Lately – So this one isn’t about IVF, IF or any other acronym. My real-life friend (she’s going to kill me) opted to start a blog about what she is doing for herself in the face of infidelity. It is not something I read for the “my problems could be worse factor” but as a way to remind myself that no matter how perfect a woman’s life may seem on the surface, every woman has struggles and deserves unequivocal support from her fellow sisters.

Everyday I learn something new from and find myself caring about the futures of women I know only online. I thank each and every one of you for the hope, inspiration, laughter and tears you bring me on a daily basis.

Filling the hole in my womb with home improvement

In less than a month, I will have some 30-plus women at my house for a baby shower. Three of whom are heavily pregnant. First off, I don’t think I have 30 female friends to invite unless I invite all my family and coworkers, which this invitee list doesn’t take into account, so that already makes me inferior in the friend department. Secondly, I know having three preggers in attendance will really stir my womb envy.

My solution, to fill the hole in my womb with an insane amount of home improvements. I think it’s my not-so subconscious way of saying if my life can’t be perfect, at least my house can be.

And it’s not like our house is a shit hole, I just want it to look perfect, to be this perfect host for my best friend’s shower. I’m replacing the flooring in our entryway, painting the trim to the house, planting flowers throughout the yard, finishing painting the kitchen cabinets, finishing installing the pressed tin backsplash, etc. All things I want done and am in the process of doing, but now I’ve got a May 20 deadline looming.

Insane? Totally. But it is something I can control. Abnormal paps, IVF, PGD have all left me feeling out of control. Yes, we as a couple decided to do IVF rather than take the 50-50 odds of passing on OI to our children. Yes, I decided that I’d wait two months to have the pap I should have had in December.

But we’re never going to have the chance to try naturally for healthy children because it’s a risk at this point I’m unwilling to make. Our future family isn’t something that can spontaneously happen in the confines of our bedroom but the clinical environment at my RE’s lovely office, which by the end of it, I’m sure I’ll have paid enough to redecorate and/or remodel. This takes away my control and I like having control and being able to plan what will happen when.

I just hate feeling like what I most want control over, the most important thing to us – babies – is something I have no control over. So, I guess the next best thing is my house and, apparently, showing off to my BFF’s friends how Pottery Barnish my house can be.

I know it’s shallow and self-serving and really isn’t filling the hole in my womb. The only thing that will fill that emptiness inside is children. I know know know this. But for the time being, it’s a band-aid for my wound. It’s helping me pass the time till my next pap and making me not focuse on feeling like a failure at this womanly born-to-breed thing.

FUP UPDATE: It is still there. One week, one pound. Very disappointing. I was hoping for those Biggest Loser moments on the scale when it tells me I lost 15 pounds. Mind you, I’m not 5’2 and 280 pounds just 5’8 and 100-something… So, I’m going to have speed up my walking. And do more crunches or whatever they call it on the Ab Lounge. Yes, my hubby bought me one in his sweet, misguided gift-giving way. He reasoned I needed it because I always was on the floor doing sit-ups. Boys are so funny.