Public Relations.

I’ve been wrestling with a tough decision for the last few weeks: to announce the existence of this blog to my legions of fans (read: people from college dorms and ex-jobs) on Facebook or not to announce the existence of this blog.  I kept it secret when I thought I’d only be writing about conception attempts, but now that I find myself with far more to say, I want to open up the readership a smidge.  In struggling with this monumental decision, I have discovered that I am, in fact, way more comfortable with the idea of discussing the contents (or lack thereof) of my uterus with the entire world than I am with the reality of boys I had crushes on in high school having access to what, despite all my attempts at levity, amounts to a carefully crafted period journal.  (Sometimes it is hard for even me to believe I am an adult married woman.)

Also, I told my mom off-hand the other day that I kept a blog and she asked to read it.  I want to let her so she’ll tell me it’s fabulous and I should write a novel.

In the words of The Cat In The Hat, what would you do if your mother asked you?



Hey ex-boyfriends! Wanna know all about it?


Not Pregnant.

I’m about to be extremely vain, but I already know this, so I am not ashamed.  I cannot handle how crazy I look right now.  My skin is doing tons of bizarre things (like being simultaneously tight and dry and slick with oil, and breaking out in blackheads and deep, cystic pimples, which I never had regularly before, even in the pre-Accutane days), I am all glassy-eyed from my cold and I feel enormous.  I think it goes without saying that I desperately want to have a baby because I’m madly in love with my husband and adore children, but at this very moment, I really wish I could use pregnancy as a happy excuse for all this bizarre body crap.  I am bloated and have digestive problems and oily hair and can only wear one pair of jeans (read: the ones with the most Lycra) and I’m not even pregnant, you guys.

I know this is all bothering me so much because I want to be pregnant and as of 6 am this morning, I’m not.  I know that all of these smalls things seem so huge because I’m disappointed and sick and my husband’s not here to eat crappy food with me and make me feel better.  Still, I’m feeling defeated by these small things and am wondering if I want to continue doing months and months of Clomid, all the while continuing to feel like a relative stranger in my own body, only to have all the rounds fail.  Part of me wants to throw in the towel and get back on birth control and just normalize.  I feel like psychological craziness of not conceiving coupled with the physical craziness I’m experiencing (cramps, nausea, etc. in addition to the vanity) will just get harder.

I told my husband a few months ago that if Clomid (and later, possibly IUI) fails, I don’t want to try IVF.  Maybe I’d feel differently if ever faced with the actual decision, but I assumed, back when we discussed it, that I wouldn’t want to put myself through the physical and mental (and monetary) anguish of IVF and then have it fail.  I would want to pour that energy into adoption.  (Again, I have zero experience and am not yet dealing with infertility, so feel free to tell me to get off my high horse.)  However, in some small way, this month’s Clomid failure is confirming to me what I already assumed about fertility treatments: it’s very emotionally difficult to put your time and energy and focus and and medicine and love and scheduling and health and hope into something and to do everything right and to not have it work out, only to be left with the promise of having to do it all over again.  And this month was nothing compared with IVF.

Intellectually, I realize I’m being dramatic and silly and it’s just been one month of ovulation out of 26 years of life, but I just don’t want to have to do all of this all over again.  Obviously, I will.  I just wish I didn’t have to.

Also, I found this adorable photo of my husband on the computer tonight and I miss him so much more than I thought would be possible.  As my grandpa told me on the phone today, absence really does makes the heart grow fonder.  I’m totally over the excitement about having alone time (especially now that I’m sick) – I just want him home already!

Finally, tomorrow I’m going to post some photos of my skin before and after Accutane, in an effort to explain a) how much that drug improved my life and b) why I am so obsessed with my current break outs that I would entertain the thought of not trying to conceive anymore and going back on birth control just to get a handle on my skin again.  This ode to vanity would have been a good place to stick them, but I already feel like there is too much going on here and I’ve been depressing enough.  Gotta spread the emotional trauma out a little.

(Upon review, parts of this post make me feel like an entitled, selfish brat.  I’m sorry if the tone is off – my face is so congested, I feel like I’m in outer space.  I was trying to be sincere and honest and I swear I’m a good person, who wants her husband back because she loves him and not just because she needs someone to massage her feet because she feels bad, even though she would really like that.)

UUU Part Deux

Let me begin by saying that the title of this post makes me feel like the most hilarious person in the universe.  Don’t judge.

In other news, yesterday was full of exciting pregnancy updates – for other people.  I just got a frustrating and slightly annoying negative morning test result (yes, I did not make it to today without wasting a stick).  However, this frustration and annoyance is very obviously tempered by the fact that the people who announced this baby-related news are my closest friends, so I am absolutely thrilled for them and this makes me less of a jealous monster.

1) My friend trying for her second baby, who had her IUD removed on July 13th (as in, one month ago), had a positive result yesterday morning (…we may have planned to take them at the same time.  Not ashamed).  I saw her tonight and she handed me her ClearBlue digital ovulation tester, as she doesn’t need it anymore and I’m most definitely using it next month, should I ever get my period.

What my bathroom counter looks like now. So much for not being an obsessive weirdo.

2) One of my best friends in the world went into labor late last night and had her first baby, a boy, this morning.  She did it naturally with the help of Hypnobirthing, which I will learn and post all about on Sunday, when I steal all of her materials after meeting her son for the first time.

In the meantime, I’ve just been having cramps all over the place: very low abdomen, hips, lower back.  I am notoriously terrible at “reading my body,” but I’ve gotten familiar enough with myself that I’m aware of what symptoms precede a period and these definitely aren’t them.  Also, I’ve been experiencing them for about six days now with no sign of my period, which is pretty much unheard of around here.  This could simply just be the start of my first non-medically-stimulated cycle since birth control, so conception progress made this week?  I could either be pregnant or not pregnant.  So glad I’ve narrowed it down.

28 Days Later.

Tomorrow marks 28 days from the start of my first post-birth control period.  If I’m ovulating like the normal person my blood tests led me to believe I am, I should have been “trying” hard enough this month to make conception a possibility.  If I’m cycling like a normal person (which would be a first), I will know by the end of this week whether or not my period has been missed.  According to the highly scientific ovulation predictor I found via WebMD, I should have a period or a positive pregnancy test tomorrow.  However, I have never in my life had a normal 28 to 35 day cycle off the pill, so I am pretty much 100% convinced there is no implantation happening right now (despite the fact that I did have some very low, very bizarre cramping this weekend, which I have never, in all my terrible menstruation history, experienced before).  If I haven’t started a period by Wednesday, I will take a pregnancy test on Thursday morning.  No one cares about this, I know, but I need to proclaim this in a public forum in order to shame myself into waiting until Thursday.  (I already used up a very expensive, not-from-the-99-Cent-Store test on Saturday, because I cannot wait.)

I thought it was a good idea for me to be super casual about “actively trying” for the first few months, because I assumed obsessively tracking ovulation and taking temperatures would consume my life and make me insufferable.  Little did I know that not obsessively tracking ovulation and taking temperatures would make me equally insufferable.  If there’s nothing doing* this week, I am going to feel like I wasted precious, precious time.

*Using this phrase makes me feel like my grandmother, which is something I pretty much always aspire to.  (And yes, I love ending sentences with prepositions.  I am a rebel.)


People in my life who know I am off birth control and actively tempting conception:

1) My friends who have babies.  They all think I’m already a year behind schedule.

2) The mothers of my friends who have babies.

3) My great aunts, who told me in no uncertain terms that now that they are in their seventies, the fact that I have no children is really unacceptable.

4) My grandma, because she is amazing.

5) Pretty much everyone else who has been within earshot of me and my giant mouth for the past three months.


People who do not know we’re actively tempting conception:

1) My parents.  When something has the potential to be awkward, judgmental or uncomfortable, I usually jump right in.  It’s kinda my thing.  However, when something has the potential to be awkward, judgmental or uncomfortable with my parents, I avoid discussing it all together.  I am really mature that way.