I frowned at a baby yesterday.

Did you hear that? FROWNED. At a BABY.

He was hanging off his mom’s hip and he was crying and his face was blotchy and wet and I thought he looked really ugly. So I frowned at him. Also, because I was jealous of his mom.

I’m an asshole.

I am writing this post with bad cramps and I am in a fight with A.

This blows.

I talked about hope last time. I was full of it. no, not shit, hope. I actually really felt hopeful. We did an IUI and I reallllly thought that this was all it was going to take for us. We suffer from severe male factor infertility. All of my tests have come back fine so I was thinking that if we could just get his lazy idiots right to the egg, my body would take it from there.


On top of that I had convinced myself I was pregnant because I thought I had implantation spotting and I was having night sweats which I never get. I googl*d all of my “new” symptoms looking for someone on those forums who have had the same things going on and then ended up pregnant, which would then mean that I would end up pregnant too!

Two nights ago I knew I was getting my period. A came in during a commercial break from ESPN and I was on the bed staring at my phone.

Me: “I’m getting my period” (sad face)

A, blank stare. “ok”


“ok?” Did he just say that? I just sat there when he left the room. I was shell shocked. He has never reacted so flippantly ever. I mean, I may as well have asked him to hand me that pen.


“We’re having enchiladas for dinner”


That would make more sense.

Dumbfounded, I went back to the bathroom and closed the door. I had my phone with me so I put on p*ndora so the room wouldn’t be so deafeningly silent. As I sat on the toilet with my head in my hands (you know, the “fuck my life, I just got my period and all my dreams are dead” position.) a familiar song came on. But it was different. It was more beautiful to me than I had ever heard. It was also so fitting as I was obsessed with my Free Willy soundtrack that beautiful summer of 1993.

Yeah, that was the summer I wore my “Tennis is life, the rest is just details” shirt almost daily, while simultaneously stuffing my feathered bangs under a day-glow greenish hat that looked like a tennis ball. I just really want to paint the best picture here. Also, Umbros.

Anyway, the song. It was Michael Jackson’s “Will you be there.” G*ogle the words.

Just listen to this song!

I needed to hear that song, right then and there. I mean, it’s basically a prayer! I haven’t prayed in a while. I mean really pray. Not like, “Please God let there be wine left in the fridge when I get home.” I grew up in a home where everyone was praying all the time-not like a “scary-weirdo” home or anything, but a very knowingly faithful, spiritual home. I was raised to pray. That should be my first line of defense. I think that after we got our diagnosis I was pretty fed up with maintaining an exhausting relationship with God.

My morning was like a scene straight out of a movie or young adult, tv drama. The song was perfectly sad and inspiring at the same time. I am imagining it shot like Felicity (since Felicity is all I can think about these days as I bang out episode after episode online). Okay sorry. But it’s just- I mean, can Ben Covington please smile at me with his dimples and slowly walk towards me and then grab my head and french me just once before I die!?!?!?

Sorry, I digress.

Back to my movie scene. They would pan back as they stayed on the dimly lit room. We would all cry as we watched this vibrant beautiful gorgeous makeup-less woman sitting on her bed alone in an empty room. Vulnerable. She is in the throes of her very silent grief, an all too common symbol for Infertility. She will brush herself off and walk out her door like everything is fine and dandy. But she us reminding you that everyone has secret battles and that you need to be a better person. Maybe I’m a narcissist, but I’m really moved.

Anyway, When I as first in my bathroom, my fat cat came in, took a seat, and watched me. I swear she just wanted to be sure everything was ok.

Not kidding.


Then, when I decided ti be depressed and camp on the bed today, She came with me and literally reached out her arm and touched my hand. Like how mon or grandma would do it. It was the most precious thing in the world. It’s amazing that I was looking for comfort in my husband who actually understands the issue, and I got what I needed from the f*cking cat. I mean, she pooped on my towel yesterday, and today she was this sympathetic angel who was being kinder to me than my husband.


She reminded me that there really is a God. Or at least, a creator of sorts that wants the best for me and wants me to FEEL GOOD. This creator sent me an adorable cat when a human failed – which was just right for me, and then a beautiful song filled with a reminder on how to let go and be willing to ask for a little help from ‘something” else besides doctors. I am turning A’s lame “ok” into an “I will be ok,” And for that, on this CD1, I am grateful.

And then, in one last ditch effort to make me believe again, the generous Father, Mother God sent me a vodka sale as I walked past the supermarket on my way home.





Keeping hope alive and well

Great.  I am having one of those mind EFF periods where I am pretty sure my period is coming but it is being a little different so now I am consumed with thoughts of “Whaaaaa??? mmmmm?  isssssss itttt????”

Probably not.  Why would this month be any different?

Well, it would be different because we did our first IUI this cycle. For our severe male factor infertility, it is a long shot, but we decided to try.  They say it just takes one, right? Maybe this time WE are the lucky ones.

I peed before bed last night and when I wiped, I had pink spotting.  I have since checked 22,475 more times more and nothing is really going on.

Implantation bleeding?????

I was SO hot two nights ago that I barely slept. Yesterday, I had a hot flash after I got to work.

Implantation hot flashes????

Okay fine. Maybe I rode my bike to work. in Hawaii.  But I haven’t gotten hot flashes from that before!

I have a little joke with myself when I am gushing blood on day one of my period. “Oh this? Nooooo, It’s not my period. It’s implantation bleeding!” and I lauuuuugh.  we have fun here. we have fun.

I was pregnant last night.  In my dream.  It was so niiiiice.  I had a tiny little belly even when I was full term and I watched the baby kick and move around from the outside. I was really happy.  I didn’t tell anyone I was pregnant until I went into labor which was totally easy. And then I was like, Whoa, A, we didn’t buy anything- we need to SHOP! Now that I think back on it, the foot I watched move inside me was about the size of my husband’s, so I don’t know what that symbolizes. except for that I am a little weird.

Anyway, it felt so real.  But I also think it was interesting that in my dream, I was acting like it really wasn’t real until that baby was coming out, (which is why we didn’t have a single baby item) This is something I will most likely feel when I do become pregnant.  I can’t imagine being pregnant.  It seems as real a possibility to me now, as if you were to say to me that tomorrow I will turn into a black man. (I am a very white girl)

I’m pretty sure I had that dream because I have been watching Felicity re-runs on Netflix and right now (Um.. helloooo Scott Speedman)   Noel and Ruby (played by the lovable Amy Smart) are going through their pregnancy DISASTER storyline.  She dramatically depicted a distraught young girl in the throes of desperation when the HPT turned pink. We are so scared for her.  Except me.


If I had had twizzlers or popcorn in my hands, they would have been thrown.  At my tiny iphone screen 8 inches from my face.

But what I am trying to say is that I am glad that I am still hopeful. Even though it is ridiculous to g*ogle “early pregnancy signs” for the 40,000th time since we have been trying, at least it shows that I haven’t given up yet.  A is excited and thinks I had a premonition. We’ve been through this before, but maybe I will try to enjoy the “What if?” this time.

I might even wear white pants in defiance.



Love and Margaritas


This morning I woke up to this:

“I love you, mommy!”

“I love you baby girl! Have fun with daddy today!”

“I really love you mommy! Okay bye! I love you!”

“I love you too, my baby girl!”

My neighbors. A single mom and her 2 year old daughter. They are loud and we hear everything that comes out of their mouths. Usually they are not very cute. (For instance they have Trash Day parties every Tuesday morning at 6:00 am. They stand outside and talk in anticipation and when the trash man comes they holler and cheer and he honks the truck’s horn and then picks up the trash and throws it down to the ground with his giant, steel trash arms. at 6:00. AM. NOT CUTE)

But today they were adorable. asses.

“OH MY GOD STOP.” I jealously whispered to myself through my scraggly, morning, homeless hair. I can’t get out of bed. Unable to rouse myself, because I drank too much last night, my cat is on my face and between she and my own hair, I am actually suffocating a little. I lie there, feeling glad yesterday is over, but I also have a smile on my face because it wasn’t SOOO bad.

My day went something like this:

Sleep in! (yay, right!? The big perk to not having kids?)

Look at phone. Laugh at the selfie my mom texted me of her wearing the necklace I made her. It is for a lower cut t-shirt for the summer. I imagine it is choking the utter crap out of her because she is wearing it with a raspberry colored turtleneck with a matching raspberry light weight vest. It’s like she stepped right out of the Land’s End or LL Bean Catalog. All that was missing were baby blue washed mom jeans and a garden trowel. God, I love her.

Make coffee

Watch the rain POUR down. damn it. I live in Hawaii. It was supposed to be sunny and 84. I was going to mentally give moms a big, virtual, “SUCK IT!” and feel “luckier” than them while I lounged and drank on the beach and enjoyed my “FREEDOM.”

but no. We are stuck inside. CHILDLESSSSSS. (yelled dramatically)

Let Norman out. Watch Norman have major liquid diarrhea outside. in the rain.

Oh come on.

Dry him off. Clean him up. Feel like a real mom. Kinda nice.

Make lamest lunch ever made in the history of lunches.

Have passive aggressive TV remote battle. When one leaves the room for whatever reason, the other switches the channel. We go back and forth between Bravo and ESPN like this for a good hour.

Pick fight with A because he is not a mind reading, Ryan Gosling.

Act like such a girl and leave room and crawl into bed. A is not having it, so he leaves with dog.

He laughed at me when I said “this day is hard.” Tells me I am choosing to make this a hard day. “Why do you have to make it about you? Just give out Love to the moms. It’s their day” I was so mad. But…

He has a point. which is super annoying. make mental note to withhold sex.

Stay in bed with cat for 3 and a half hours.

I lie there resisting the urge to break the ONE rule I had for myself. Don’t look at Facebook. Don’t do it. just don’t. Dooooon’t.

Look at Facebook. Roll eyes at newsfeed particularly when seeing, “A poem for my girls on mother’s day.” BARF.

A comes home. quickly close Facebook and phone and pretend to be asleep.

Ironically, we finish a podcast on male factor infertility. We talk about IVF with ICSI, which will most likely be what we start preparing for in the coming months. Kinda excited to get the ball rolling on it.

I say, “Let’s go out to dinner!”

A says, “We have $200 until our next paycheck.”


“We’re going anyway. We are charging it. I wants a mother’s day margarita”

The rain had stopped by this time and we ended up walking to the little beach bar down the street. It was so nice to just walk together and talk. We sat down and I ordered my drink. I was also really craving a plate of melted cheese, but since stupidly, no one sells that, I found the next best thing and went for the loaded potato skins.

I tried to ignore the trashy couple knocking back beer after beer while their two boys with Mohawks yelled and treated the place like a playground. (Two for one special parenting pet peeve- young boys with mohawks and terrible restaurant behavior)

A and I sat on bar stools, phones put away, and laughed through Margaritas and greasy food. It was like the old us in college when things were so simple. It was really nice.

Yeah, maybe it’s days like these where I really notice the emptiness and quietness of our house and though that does sting a bit, it’s also days like these that I am grateful for the beautiful life that we DO have. And though I am getting little hints from my body that our IUI probably didn’t work, It’s okay. I can be happy that I get another month alone with that guy. That should be enough! Though we have our challenges, I never take for granted how fortunate I am to have found a partner. Many would love to have just that.

I hope you all got through yesterday okay, and if it was particularly hard, I’m sorry.

It’s 12:30, so I guess I should get out of these “scottie dog” pj pants.



Jealousy is a bitch.

Do you have one of those women in your life who you just can’t beat?! like in life- she just constantly beats you out and/or gets everything that YOU want?!

Yeah, I got one of those.

It’s so annoying.

I know this is going to come off as a really catty post, but I know that other women have these experiences coupled with these horrid thoughts and I am going to validate them right now.

My “woman” is my husband’s little sister.  My sister in law.  My sister. I love her. I was her maid of honor.

:face palm of dishonor:

How horrible is that!? She also happens to be one of my best friends which makes me even more of an evil wench..

It’s so weird- even though we are so close, there is this part of me that is not 100% natural with her because of those underlying jealousies and the competitiveness I feel with her.  She doesn’t feel this way, because in her sweet little heart there is no competition between us.

That’s because she is the one winning.

She is 3 years younger than I am and already has owned 2 houses, (that her wealthy and generous husband’s family helped buy) the exact car that I had been privately wanting- Her hair is always just a little longer than mine, her outfit is always just a little cuter or more designer, or she always has the thing- the thing I have wanted but didn’t have the money to get it quite yet, but when I do finally get it, it will look like I am copying her or that she thought of it first.  Which she wouldn’t have.

When she got engaged she got a Tiffany ring (which I really don’t care THAT much about) but her husband told the story around the Christmas table that year, of how her ring was being shipped from Tiffany to his office and was never delivered. They presumed it was stolen, so Tiffany sent him a new one and upgraded the diamond. To what? the EXACT same size as mine, down to the tenth of a carat. literally. the same size.  I had come so close! I almost at least had a bigger ring! (Again, I know. first world problems) But nope!!

She is always just a few pounds lighter, a vegetarian like I was- but I stopped a year ago because I thought it would make me healthier and help me get pregnant. So, I am a quitter in that regard where she is not.  She is a runner- I simply cannot.  Despite my best efforts and annual declaration that this will be the year I start running, I just can’t. So she has those amazing runner’s legs too. bitch.

Okay, I think I have adequately set the stage here. She is only girl of 4 siblings.  The family motto is, (let’s call her “Maggie”)

“What Maggie wants, Maggie gets!”  No truer words have ever been spoken.  It fills me with jealous rage.

She called us in mid-April. I just knew.  You know what I am talking about.  My pregdar is amazing and I am never wrong. I could hear her ask if I was home. I looked at a and gave him the “I’M NOT F***ING HERE” signal.

Aaaaaaaand no duh, she’s pregnant.  only 7 weeks.  Why would she tell us so early!? She could have given us 5 weeks less of not having to think about it!

A took the phone to the other room and did a phenomenal job of pretending to be happy. I ran to the bathroom and sobbed and yelled like my best friend had been murdered.  I have never felt such sadness.  Such jealousy.  Such Anger.  Even hatred. I hated her.  Hated her for always getting the things I want.  (This includes a doting father who spoiled her, while I watched mine struggle with cancer and die two months after I turned 9) This shit goes deep.

A got off the phone and came into the bathroom to be with me.  I was sobbing uncontrollably. Hyperventilating. like, I had gone animal.

“They told us they were going to wait.  Why would they say that!?” I said through tears. I felt like such an idiot.  She always tells us just what we want to hear.  I thought I had time.  They were waiting. It was gonna be okay. We will get pregnant before them. We have been together like 6 years longer than they have.  It’s only right and fair.


I’ve been Thinking of my husband’s mom, who has told us all she wants in life is to be a Grandma, just having a big ole party back home, so happy, while we were sitting there mourning. It kills me.  I think about it everyday. How happy she is every. day.  Maybe she got Maggie a mother’s day gift, or has already sent her a little onesie she saw in a shop that she just had to get. That should be me.   Thinking of Maggie, 3 years my junior, now getting to set up a nursery in the brand new house they just got- picking out a theme and colors.  Reading a baby name book.  Her husband, kissing her stomach when they are hanging out in bed at night. All the smiles, excited about what’s to come. Horrible.  Thinking of the fancy shower she will be thrown and the amazing amounts of high end baby things that she will get.  She gets to have the first grandchild on both sides. She will have gotten pregnant as a surprise, having paid $0 on getting pregnant and zero emotional cost, and then she will be handed all the nicest baby things FOR FREE.

A couldn’t handle how upset I was.  He thought he would punch a wall, seeing me in such despair, so he took a walk. I didnt see him for 4 hours.

I still don’t feel any better about it to be honest.  I am now working through all these feelings of guilt on top of i all.  She deserves to be celebrated.  After all, she is just another woman who loves her husband and wants to have babies with him.  We all want that! But I just don’t know how I am going to be able to celebrate with her.  I am paralyzed by jealousy.  I have avoided her like the plague. I even feel like I just can’t have her in my life right now. I am shutting her out.  I am sure this hurts her, but what am I supposed to do?

At least Maggie respects the infertility struggle. I have opened up to her about it.  In fact, I really opened up a couple of weeks before she told us, so now I feel really stupid as she was pregnant at the time and probably felt really uncomfortable with what I was saying. It went ohhhh something like this,  “I  just can’t be happy for anyone who is pregnant right now.” Yeah.  This is a bad situation.   But I texted her (I just couldn’t pick up the phone) and I told her it was a little awkward and that I needed time. She said she respected that and to take as much time as I needed and she understood and that she loved me.

Can you understand Why I am such a B?  This girl is a complete DOLL.

she also said “You were the first thing I thought of when we found out…”

FOUND OUT!? UGH! WHY!?!?!  I will never have to FIND OUT.  I will KNOW because my 11th HPT of that week will have told me.  FOUND OUT implies that “this was a surprise! and someone had to inform us! because we just didn’t know what was gong on!”  which made me cringe every time I went back and read it.  Isn’t it funny what little things make you so mad and offended?!  not really?

Has anyone else had a similar situation?  I would love suggestions on how any of you reading this have dealt with jealousy, especially someone you are related to and are stuck with for life!  My big fear on this infertility journey is that I will never be able to let go of the jealousy.  That I will be angry and bitter my whole life if I never get the chance to have my own kids. That somehow, I will never be able to turn that off.  That makes me so sad for my future. I’ve got to get a grip.

The only thing that makes me feel better is now that Maggie is doing this before me, I get the chance to one up her on EVERYTHING she does!

Also, she will be fatter than me for at least 6 months, so there’s that!!!

last mother’s day

Last year, on mother’s day, I got my period.



I always secretly wish that my husband will think of me on this day and at least give me a card from our pets thanking me for expressing all the qualities of motherhood with them. or maybe he will buy me a little gift to add some fun to an otherwise really tough day.

but no.  this is not a romantic comedy.  he is not ryan gosling and he just doesn’t think like that.

As I sat on the toilet staring blankly and moping, my phone rang. It was a friend from my past. “What the heck could she be possibly be calling me for?” I hit “ignore” as I was in no mood to talk.

Her message went something like this:

Happy mother’s day, [my name]! Thank you so much for the beautiful flowers!  We are having the BEST day with Nolan.  He has been such a good boy for mommy on our first mothers day together!  I am having so much fun being a mom and am just filled with so much gratitude.  He is learning so much everyday and talking up a storm!  Nolan has made this year the best year of our lives! Being his mommy is the most fun thing that has ever happened to us!

Serious? God, rub it in a little more how amazing motherhood is.

All I heard was,

mommy mommy mommy mommy mommy mommy I am a mommy mommy.  Being a mommy is magic.  being a mommy is incredible.  You suck if you’re not one.  mommy’s are prettier than non mommies. babies are like a dream fantasy. you don’t have one.  you are worthless.  we all get to have fun forever and you are not in our club! you’ll probably die alone an no one will care. Sucks to be you.  mommies for the win!

Turns out, my friend’s mother-in-law and I have the same first name, and she hit the wrong one in her contacts list.  If she only knew the ironic torture she would inflict on me that day.

After the voicemail ended, I sank to the ground and had a good, boogery cry with my face shoved into our dirty bathmat. seriously, how hard are those to remember to just stick in the dang laundry? also, why are there so many bits of toilet paper in there? ugh, whatever.

This year, I will just turn off the phone (once I have called my own awesome mom) and NOT LOOK AT THE TORTURE CHAMBER THAT IS FACEBOOK. or, “Fertilebook” as we call it.

I’m just gonna trap myself inside and go balls to the walls on Oreos. and vodka!  or maybe a box of wine. Yes, I said a box.

Who’s with me!?


“I’m here to pick you up so you can go masturbate in public, darling!”

What has become of us.

A and I are newbies at all this.  Well, sort of.  We have been trying on our own for three years, but when we moved to Hawaii, we discovered that some infertility coverage is required in most health plans here.  SO, an IUI is only $30!  woot! Finally we would get to try something advanced.  Of course add the sperm wash and the total was $152, but STILL!

Since we were IUI first timers we really struggled like morons with the timing on getting the sperm to the clinic.  We had to get the sperm sample,  and rush it to the lab where it gets “washed” 2 hours prior to the actual insemination. So, two trips to the hospital. Sounds simple on paper,  BUT this was so hard!  We couldn’t just have him you know, yank it at home and then drive straight in.  We live at least 30 mins from the hospital where we go. Any traffic at all and we risk the sample being too old when we arrive.  So basically, I needed to pick him up from work, and go straight there where he would find a private bathroom and… you know… do stuff.  I need to come up with a fun code word for this action.

Well, there was no private bathroom.  We found nothing on the floor by the lab.  Poor A had to go into the big, busy bathroom with many stalls where all the gross sickbags were shuffling in and out! Like revolving door style.  As he walked towards the bathroom, I pulled a Mission Impossible move on him. I handed him my phone and started to whisper.

Did I need to talk like a ventriloquist? probably not.  But it added to the effect.

“In the photos app, there is an album called, “For A.”  Open it.”  He looked at me confused, then his eyes lit up.  I knew what his eyes were saying. PORN?!

I had had an earlier inkling that this task would not be easy, so I prepared with some special photos. Not nudies of me- weird,  but I had done a nice search on “boobs” & “naked women”on Google and found him some nice stuff.  In the past I would have been way too jealous of a girl to even consider doing this, as well as having a very anti porn point of view, but we are three years into this, people, and I needed that sperm out of him.   Unfortunately, even the hottest pictures of boobies just don’t work when you have men grunting through poops in the stalls surrounding you.  I was so tempted at one point to block the door and ask everyone to JUST GIVE IT 5 MINUTES FOR EFF’s SAKE, PLEASE!?

As I am standing there nervously waiting for him to come out, I hear this squeaking from behind me. “NO.” I instantly knew what it was. Cleaning lady. I turn around and sure enough she is wheeling her way to the bathroom door with toilet paper rolls piled high and a mop in her hand.

You have to be F***ing me! I thought.  This situation was just like in a movie.

“There is someone in there!” I said with an awkward smile.

“Oh okay I come back.”

please dont.

5 minutes later.  Still no sign of A.  Poor guy.  this is torture.  I can’t help but think of all the lucky jerks who just have sex in their beds after watching The Notebook LIKE NORMAL COUPLES and get pregnant. Here we were- my husband is having to wank it in a dirty hospital bathroom surrounded by men with the runs.  Just humiliating salt being poured into the already gaping wound of infertility.

squeak squeak again.

“Someone is still in there.”

I give her that “please just let it be” look.

“They STILL in there??” she says annoyed and walks away, then waits directly in front of the door.

Finally A comes out with a look on his face that says “We aren’t talking about it and never will.”

Like two awkward and really serious middle school girls trying to privately hand off a secret note, we walk around a corner so I can discretely put the jar in my purse and take it to the lab.

I head to the lab and he booked it outside for some fresh air.

When we reunited at the fountain outside, (which would have been practically just as public but way more tranquil way to do all this,) I just looked at him and said “I’m so sorry.  I’m so sorry you had to do that.” He smiled and we headed to our car.

This whole process is so ugly in many ways, but I will have to say that I have never felt closer to A and THAT has been a beautiful thing.  We will be forever changed for the better because of these experiences.  Though, we will never let that experience happen again. Like ever. We will be coming up with a different plan for that for sure. Something cleaner. Something  nicer.

Like maybe in a sewer!