The amazing Stephanie Howell issued a challenge today to “Blog Your Heart.” So, I am.
2011 was not an easy year for me, but I know people who had it harder. And that makes me feel that I have no right to complain. That’s self-imposed, by the way. No one tells me that I can’t complain.
And since Stephanie issued the challenge, and since I’ve been wanting to blog some things for a few weeks now, I’ve decided to use New Year’s Eve to my advantage, and get this off my chest.
February 12th, 2009 was the day that I found out that we would not be having any children, of our own. It was the day that my last fertility treatment was cancelled, because the frozen embryos did not survive the thaw.
That was after two fresh rounds of IVF.
That was after three rounds of clomid and the “not as fun as it sounds” timed intercourse.
My husband has “perfect sperm”. Which makes all of this my fault. And for those of you who want to know, my fertility “issue” is that my tubes are blocked. Plus, at the time, I was in my late 30’s, also known as “advanced maternal age”, which I likened to the other “AMA”, against medical advice. As in, it’s against MY medical advice to tell me that I am at an advanced maternal age. Just saying.
Anyway, that was almost three years ago. And I got over it, eventually. It wasn’t easy, but it happened. And we went on with our lives, and spoiled other people’s children.
I made some good friends during my infertility journey. One of them, we’ll call her Jessica (because that’s her name), is still a very good friend of mine. And we still email, talk, and text each other all the time. You know, like when I’m having raging PMS and just can’t figure out why I get to have PMS every freaking month, but can’t have a baby.
While I was bitching about my PMS in November, just last month, Jessica said “ummm, you’ve been bitching about PMS for about three weeks now, I think you’re pregnant.” Now, I’m paraphrasing here, because she spent about a week telling me how I must be pregnant. And I finally said to her “I am the least pregnant person you will ever meet, now stop saying that. Thanks.”
And then I took a pregnancy test. It was positive. Holy shit, I peed on a stick, and the stick did not win. That has never happened to me before, and Ladies & Gentlemen*, I have peed on a lot of sticks during my two years of fertility treatments.
Miracles do happen. Infertile women do get pregnant the old fashioned way. You know, via sex. It was amazing. Being pregnant. Not the sex. I’m not sure that I remember the sex.
And now I’m not pregnant. I miscarried on December 10th. Which, really, is a whole other post. Holy hell, I had no idea a miscarriage could be so painful. Probably because no one speaks of them, but still, that’s information that people should know. If you’re pregnant, and you know it, and you’re at least eight weeks along, and your body decides to be a bitch and throw the baby out, it’s going to hurt like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. Ever.
So, that’s my 2011 in a nutshell. I was pregnant. I had a miscarriage.
I believed in miracles. And then mine was taken away from me.
I have a lot I want to say on this subject, but I’m going to post this right away to get it out there, and end this year on a high note. You’ll be hearing more from me on this subject, I’m sure.
If you have any questions about infertility, please ask me. I’m sort of an expert since I’ve been through most treatments for it, and would be happy to share my knowledge. I can not help you get pregnant though. Clearly.
* – I know of two men that read my blog, hence the proper usage of the word “gentlemen”.