update: big, fat, annoying.

You know that kind of laughing that you do when you have simply lost your damn mind?

Last night after I closed my laptop, put on some chapstick and happily put my maybe pregnant, glowing self to bed, I had dreams that I did take the test and that it was positive. I remember in my dream just staring at A, both of us in complete disbelief, shock and awe.  5 minutes before my alarm went off this morning, I was out of bed and in the bathroom. My dream had to have meant something. I was 8 days late and I was gonna take the test!

BFFN. (yes, extra F on purpose)


I was ticked and sad, but not shocked, so I got ready for work and went on with my day.  All day went by and not a sign of AF in sight.  I was still thinking it might be a false negative- maybe it was too early!  Since I am currently biking to work, (don’t be all impressed- I don’t do it for the environment, I do it because we sold our other car in Seattle and A didn’t want to get a new one unless we HAD to…) I always make a little trip to the bathroom before I start my ride home since I usually nurse a water bottle all day while working.  I sat down to pee and whud’ya know- I have some spotting in my underwear.


As I was biking home, I was like a crazy person talking to myself. Again, to quote Bridesmaids- i was like Kristin Wiig  in the car doing the “Oh hi, I’m Helen (hair flip) Oh you live in Milwaukee? I’m sorry.”

Oh all you want is a baby and you can’t have one? I’m sorrrrry.

So I roll my sweet wheels up to my mailbox and grab our mail.

An envelope with pretty writing for me is inside!

Yay! someone wrote me! Someone cares! I MATTER!

<<open card>>


It’s my sister-in-law’s baby shower invite.


It’s just bullying.

Incessant, ceaseless, unrelenting bullying.  I am innocent.  I did nothing wrong, and nothing to deserve it, but the Universe has found my weakness and sends attacks upon me on all sides; on a daily basis.

I just can’t believe that on the 8th day of a missed period, right after I hopefully and hopelessly take a pregnancy test, and then right after I realize it’s over…. That damn girl is right there in my face yet again reminding me that she gets everything that I want.

And to put salt in the wound, I have to imagine how she will sit there in some perfect outfit with perfect hair and perfect teeth and perfect belly, surrounded by her rich friends, eating perfect catered food.  She will be showered with thousands of dollars worth of high-end baby gear (that I have been drooling over for YEARS)  that she didn’t have to yearn for to earn.  She would have gotten everything she wanted had she not even had a shower because that’s just how it goes for her.   But she will receive all of this AND the baby 100% with no price tag- Emotionally or financially. It’s like completely unfathomable to me.

I am not going to lie when I saw that the dog had started eating and ripping apart the invite, (yes I threw it when I walked in the house) I smiled.  He knew.  He is so smart…protecting his mom form rude people like that.

Except I do need that invite.  I need to see that registry so that I can note to one up every single item on there when its my turn.



af trickery

It’s sitting there all like “Use me, bitch!” It’s on the bathroom counter taunting me with its friendly, pink packaging. I caved for even buying it in the first place. I haven’t had these in the house for a loooong time. What was the point? I have been here before- 40-ish times to be exact. Not one BFP. Not. One. Why would this be any different? We were told that my sweet, beautiful, amazing guy cannot impregnate me on his own because he has ill-shaped, lazy spermies. Done and done.

But today, I am 7 days late- by the time you read this tomorrow- I will be 8 days late. Unless my husband had some miraculous glittery load in his pants 3 weeks ago, this is looking like an evil trick to keep me from starting ivf and/or making me believe ONE LAST TIME that maybe, just maybe I will cash in on the family I am entitled to have. for free.

I will kneel in the desert and scream “I defy you stars!!” Before I take that damn test (Romeo and Juliet)

Such a mind fuck.

sorry for the swear.

I don’t know what to do! I have no symptoms other than the delayed period. I have had some mild cramping, but I am convinced that that is a very rude, unpunctual AF talking. Also a few headaches (but I live with a man) and evening milder than mild nausea (again, I live with a man. also, maybe I had McDonalds last night on a late drive home.)

In the meantime, A and I celebrated our 5 year anniversary on Friday. (again, because that number does not give me the credit I deserve….I have to mention we have been together for 12.5 years) He took the day off from work and we played. It was awesome, remember, because we live in Hawaii right now. We took bets on how much we would probably fight because that’s our thing and we were kayaking and I am a lazy weakling who likes a good whine (read double entendre), but we had barely a bicker. My anniversary present to him was sex and a nag free day- basically every man’s dream. (I’m a hero) We kayaked to this remote island- it was straight out of your tropical paradise dreams. G. damned sea turtles were popping their heads up around us for pete’s sake! We enjoyed the one thing infertility has given us- this opportunity. We wouldn’t have come had things been “working out” the way we really wanted. After a perfect day, we ate an amazing waterfront meal under swaying palms right as the sun was setting. The next day, we took our dog to the sleepy North Shore and snorkeled and played on the beach. All three days we played and laughed and and snuggled and smiled like we were on a honeymoon or like we were still dating and completely acting out a lie about how “carefree” and “up for anything” we were. remember doing that? ugh, Poor A.

The only sad part about our anniversary this year is year is that basically no one remembered. My own mom forgot. In our large family, at least 5 separate units should have at least sent a text. A’s dad sent us an e-gift card which was awesome, but I couldn’t help but feel like our worst fears were being realized on both sides… we are slowly becoming irrelevant. We are like a nice balloon floating up and away to the background.. and out of everyone’s consciousness. I know that generally no one cares about anniversaries, but you know with all these babies being born in our lives, it’s no coincidence that this is the first year that the people who usually send cards and well wishes…. sent nothing. My preggo SIL was one of them. If the roles were reversed I would have made damn sure that she felt like people were thinking of her. narcissists.

not me with the blog about me, no.

As for tomorrow morning, I am not sure what I will do about the stupid HPT. Maybe if you comment for me by the time I wake up, I will be swayed in one direction or the other. I just don’t know if it’s worth it. I like the mystery because it gives me the 50% shot that no one else will give me. And I know that I am so lucky because even if AF comes, it means I move forward with IVF. I win either way! But you know …when you’re 8 days late, you can’t turn off the hope that creeps in. It’s just there. I am over-analyzing…. But still, periods should only be late for one reason.





an unintended target

My period is 3 days late. I haven’t had any spotting.  I haven’t had cramps. None of the warning shots.  I refuse to take an HPT. Oh ho ho ho no… I will not give it that power!   The only reason I would want to is because that is the formula for getting your period, right? I take an HPT; I get my period within hours.  I am so annoyed that this is happening because as soon as I get AF, I can begin the IVF stuff. I CAN BEGIN MY LIFE.  I don’t want to wait anymore.  LET’S GET THIS FUCKING SHOW ON THE ROAD!!! It’s all I think about all day, every day… so the fact that my period is delaying this whole process (I just typo’d Whore process instead of Whole process, which makes me giggle because up until now TTC HAS been somewhat of a whore process) is just so typical.   Anyway today I was like this:

me: Hey A, my period is late.

A: No. just no.

Whelp, alright.

He refuses to go there anymore. I get it. moving on. Still though, I can’t help but wonder.

Yesterday I had a straight up mental health issue at my local Target. You know. That place is a fucking fertile parade.

Cue Mary Hart and Dick Clark:

“Aaaaand here comes the 21 year old military mom with 3 kids already.  She’s angrily yelling at them using lots of “aints” and “NOs” peppered with good ‘ole “Sit yer butt deeeown” because she hates her life! NICE!

What fun! Here comes an unmarried, teen mom.  She looks breathtaking in an over-sized Tweetie Bird t-shirt and sweat pants as she shuffles from aisle to aisle in over-sized house slippers.  The child, holding on for dear life on her hip is wearing ONLY a diaper. Yes- only, a saggy, full diaper and nothing else! No other clothes! Juuuuuuust precious.”

“And my favorite, folks- The young couple, neither of whom are wearing wedding rings, with children who look like they are no more than 12 exact months apart.  The little girl wears a “spoiled princess” t-shirt (Teeheehee UH-dorable) and the boy is sporting a PRECIOUS *mohawk and is behaving just atrociously! Which surprises me, Dick, it really does!  Dad is dis-interested in being helpful- having an indifferent attitude towards parenthood and life in general and disciplines his young boy with lots of  “Hey cut that shit out!” He wears a flat-rimmed Yankee hat, an ill fitted tank top, and a wallet is attached to his pocket with a chain. (Oh hey, 1996!)  You can only imagine that his fingers smell like cigarettes and Dorrito cheese. What a guy!”

*I am anti-mohawk for little boys. I am sorry if that offends you. Mohawks turn boys into little assholes and it has been scientifically proven.  by my mom- a veteran elementary school teacher. (Yes, I know my grammar would literally kill her. See how I was ironic just then? …or wait was I actually ironic?)

If I am coming across as a snob, I should have you know that I am one. so good, that’s cleared up.

So after all that, I am reading the label on something and I realize that the white noise in the background is actually the sound of screaming babies.  Like, a symphony of infants hollering at the top of their tiny baby lungs. I get annoyed. Then mad.  I don’t have kids yet, so I both long for them badly, while simultaneously hating most kids I lay my eyes on.  It’s confusing. I decide after 2 hours in that black-hole, that I should be done anyway. But first, I shall get a coffee from the Starbucks that is inside the store!  I get to the entrance and realize there is a line.  A long lone.  I have multiple strollers and 3 infant carriers directly in front of me.  The mom’s are happy; elated. I start to well up. I decide that I will leave and just get out of there.  Too many babies. I was done.  I turn around to look behind me.  Glowing mom with a baby in a wrap sleeping peacefully against her chest. “oh God.”  The tears start coming.  No no no NO NO stop stop stop stop please please pleeeaaaassssee.  I start crying- not full on water works, but I can’t play it like I have an allergy or that something got in there.  Nope, I was having early signs of an emotional breakdown in the Starbucks line in Target.  And there was no stopping me…  like in “Bridesmaids,” when Maya Rudolph is crossing the street in the fancy wedding dress as she craps her herself and she’s all, “It’s happening.”

I sorta shit in the street, if you will.

Starbucks lady looks up.

“Hi what can I get-

her face turns to concern.

…forrrrr youuuu.”

Me: canipleasegetanicedgrandeamericanowithroompleasethanks.

it came out that fast.  it was my desperation order.

As I was waiting for my drink, I felt the walls caving in. My heart was racing.  Imagine the theme from psycho is playing and that stab sound shrills with each turn of my head as I see darling infant after darling infant after radiant mom.

I got my drink and basically ran my cart to the car. I shut the door and then just sobbed.

I wish I could say that that was the first time I have left Target in tears, but it was not.  Nor was it the second, or the third.  It pretty much happens all of the time, but this was the first time I actually felt in my body that I NEEDED OUT.

It’s probably too much to write Target asking them for “NO CHILDREN ALLOWED AT TARGET DAY,” isn’t it?

Yeah. It definitely didn’t work on my local Zoo officials.

name thieves and little fatties

Lake WinnipesaukeeHello ladies! I have LITERALLY done nothing all day but look at your blogs, TRY to comment on them (something wrong with blogger today?) and watched TV. I had the day off and I could not have been lazier. I actually fell asleep on the couch with the laptop in my hands while typing a blog comment. I woke up when I choked on my own spit. That’s happened more times than I am comfortable admitting.

Today was a big day. It started out with an email from my friend saying, “Yeah, Lake Winnipesaukee represent!” with a link to the Savannah Guthrie- Jimmy Fallon interview. I knew that he had named his daughter, “Winnie,” So I immediately started going, “no no no NO NO!” Winnie is on our name list for specific reasons. APPARENTLY, Jimmy Fallon and his wife have a LOT in common with us:

  • being Hilarious.
  • being rich.
  • wait, nope.
  • Infertility.
  • A small Lake in New Hampshire called Lake Winnipesaukee. (Yes, What about Bob.. I’M SAILING!!!!)
  • a family cabin on said lake
  • getting engaged at the end of the dock at said family cabin
  • wanting to use the name “Winnie” to commemorate such a special place. (also, we were married there as well, so we win)

So with us, it was just on the longish list, but when I heard the Fallons had used it for the EXACT SAME REASONS, suddenly I felt very robbed like it had been my number one pick.

I text A and tell him and he is like “whoa” and then I go on with my life. My life, meaning, I don’t have a car, so when it is my day off, I sit at home so that I wont be tempted to spend money and watch you tube videos of women telling their husbands or moms that they are pregnant after infertility. It is supposed to make me feel hopeful, but I just sit there bawling and feeling confused about whether I am feeling happy or depressed.

I am literally blowing happy/hopeless snot out of my nose when I see that my brother is calling me. Ohmygod. Remember, I have two pregnant sisters-in-law.

Brother: “You’re an auntie again!”

always a bridesmaid, never a bride.

“YYYYYEAAAAAAAAY!!!!!” Actually, I am very excited. We didn’t know the sex, so that was really fun to anticipate, but yes, my fears were confirmed when they DID have a girl and DID use one of our baby names as a middle name. This was likely as we had a very special Grandmother whom we both would want to honor. Anyway, it’s fine. We can use it as a middle name too, or one up them by using it as a first.

My brother’s wife called him at work and said, “I’m gonna call the midwife now”

(sidenote: we are from a home birth family. I was born at home, my bro was, A and his siblings were, two of my closest friends did it with their babes, and my brother and his wife now have with both. The list goes on… This is totally normal to me)

So, my brother gets home from work and then turns around to take my nephew with him to get some snacks for the midwives for the long haul. When he was five minutes from returning home, he got a call from my sister-in-law and there was a baby crying in the background. He missed it. My brother is a very sensitive guy, so I know that this was probably REALLY troubling for him.. to you know… miss the birth of his daughter, but all I could say was:

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Little sister thing.

The midwife ASSISTANT had been there for 17 minutes.

My sister-in-law pushed for 5.

And then………

She gave birth to a 10 pound, 2oz baby at home. with no meds.

So today, I am not jealous at all. What started as a day of frustration, ended with a weird sense of relief. Relief that nothing weighing ten pounds came out of me.

Today, I embrace our infertility with gusto!

encROACHing on sacred territory

This has nothing to do with infertility. I just wanted to share it, because it was a big deal in my life yesterday.

This happened.


Okay. So that was not just in my bathroom last night. There is more. Well, here is the text i sent my best friend last night.





A is out of town. I was alone.

I had about 3 panic attacks afterwards when my own hair tickled my back.

No one heard my screams.

It took me 3 hours to fall asleep.

too easy, too hard


I needed a picture to go here so I just used one of my dog, Norman.

It’s starting to get real. Needle phobia is rearing her ugly head. I am doing IVF next month and I can’t believe it is finally approaching.

I dont want this to sound ungrateful, but it has been too easy. Okay, aside from being painfully and hellishly hard. Let me explain- Moving to Hawaii put us in a state that gives you one shot per insurance (pun intended) for IVF. We can do one on mine, and then try one on A’s work insurance. We made an appointment as soon as we were settled in. Because we are severe male factor, we literally just walked in there with his semen analysis, and they were like, “Uh huh, IVF with ICSI” and then we had a nurse and a tentative calendar, met with finance people to discuss the low (ish) flat rate co-pay and we were all set. September would be the month. We have barely heard from them at all since then, and over dinner the other night, A and I were like “this has been too easy. No one is telling us anything. All we did was sign up. Where is my horribly restrictive diet? Where is the “Give me a list of all your favorite things. Great now don’t do any of them. and also you can’t lay your eyes on one puppy until this is over, ya hear?”

Is that normal? Is it because all my tests have checked me out to be okay and it’s just a matter of putting the sperm IN the egg? Don’t get me wrong- I know that I am at a top notch specialist. We are one of 10 clinics in the U.S who have that EmbryoScope thingy magoo that watches the embryos in all stages of development. I know that they are very legitimate and highly praised…but they have been so hands off so far! Tell me all the shit I don’t get to do anymore! Tell me I can only eat spinach! I had to put MYSELF on a “Kimmy Fit for Life” program because I feel like something needs to make this seem real. This program basically consists of me saying I am not drinking anymore and then shortly turning around and grabbing a wine glass. to drink wine from. damnit!

I am trying not to be bitter and resentful about it all as the panic about IVF really starts to set in. All the other bloggers talk about being in it together, “it’s not a them vs. me” thing with your spouse, but as the one without the actual physical issue, I can honestly say that I don’t feel that way 100% of the time. I feel like an ass-hole about that. I have never said anything to A that would be divisive- I never, ever would. We ARE in this together….but it is really fucking frustrating to me that the problem lies with A and I have to go through ALL OF THIS. Because it’s not fair! I don’t know if anyone else with male factor has these internal struggles but it would be nice to hear about. I mean I AM suffering like everyone else is. 3.5 years of trying. nothing. Being told my whole future is at stake and then watching everyone around me have all my dreams come true for them on an almost daily basis. I mean I am IN THIS. It’s just…. everything I have done and will do.. all the bloodwork, the vaginal ultrasounds (anyone else feel like that thing is a joystick and the doc is playing a nintendo race car game in your body? Hit the all the gold coins, doc!!) …-and all he has to do is masturbate. like seriously. He gets porn. God, I can’t even write anymore without eating some Oreos right now. Hold on…

Damnit, “Kimmy Fit for Life” is killing me. I have created this fake IVF diet straight out of my imagination and somehow I have convinced myself that getting ready for IVF and pregnancy means I probably shouldn’t eat Oreos. That is super lame, right? Okay Kimmy Fit for Life will be re-examined.

A and I got in a little heated discussion the other day involving my attitude problem. God, his sparkling optimism is really wearing me down. We are so different.

But that is also why I love him. Mr. Happy Hopeful Pants. So I was telling him that if this IVF works, I will be happy, but very scared and nervous. What if it doesn’t stick? I mean we have sort of convinced ourselves that it will work the first time. But, what if it doesn’t? Or what if it does and then it doesn’t anymore? It’s happening to people and it is horrid. I am so afraid that I will be victimized again by my inability to enjoy it. I really feel like it won’t be fun because I will have this haunting feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. because usually it does. He was completely dumbfounded. and grossed out. He was irritated that I would be anything but super pumped. He didn’t get it. And he was mad at me for being a pessimist. “It’s your choice to be afraid and concerned and all fearful, and it’s also your choice to be positive and hopeful and expectant of good. So choose that” I wish it were that easy! I don’t know how to make him understand that I can’t just turn it off!! WILL THE SUFFERING EVER END?!?!?!?!? (said over-dramatically, hands in the air)

He has NO idea- the impact that this has on me and my life literally minute by minute on a daily basis- I know it impacts him too. But for me… I mean, I literally cry every day about it. I work in a store. Cute babies and kids come in all the time. After I am done talking to them, I get teary eyed. Just interacting with children makes me weep. Watching families on the beach enjoy one another makes me cry. daddies and daughters kill me. (more on that, specifically, later) I have two pregnant sisters in law for Fuck’s sake. One who is having her second any day (I’ve been trying before her no. 1 was conceived) and the other is the pretty, perfect, adorable younger than me bitch who gets everything she wants. (correction: she gets everything I want)

Are your partner’s the same? Are you the hopeful one or the doomsday prepper? How do you cope when you’re so different from one another in your approach to this whole mess?


I was reading a post recently from over at sweetest in the gale and it made me laugh because I know that we can all identify with it. I purposefully made the very conscious decision to let some people in on our struggle so that they would know there was a problem and STOP TALKING ABOUT BABIES with me all the time. I figured that if they knew what was going on, then they would put two and two together and NEVER mention BABIES or PREGNANCIES around me. This is good in theory, but it doesn’t pan out that way AT ALL. In fact, it’s just made people worse, I think.

It’s like poor Fred Savage in Austin Powers who has the mole and no one can stop mentioning it. Our infertility is the mole. Watch it here.

My best friend, for some reason, (who got pregnant on accident 4 years ago) has the mole problem. I remember a couple of years ago she was telling me a story about someone she knows (who I had remembered meeting at a party- she was a frazzled mother of 2) was “HAVING HER FOURTH!” Her tone, was to imply that we were to somehow feel bad for this whore. First of all, I don’t know this woman, and so it is really irritating that my friend would even mention that a stranger is having her 2nd accidental baby, and that she is really over-whelmed. Don’t Care. And certainly don’t feel bad for her. Why would you burden me with this information? And why are you telling me this story at all because again, I DON’T KNOW HER. Then, about a year ago, she was telling me that a mutual friend of ours, (her VERY good friend, and to me, a buddy I love to see when he is in town, but we don’t keep in touch at all) had big news and it was still not public, (so then why would I get the privilege of knowing his private affairs? ugh) which to me is even more cruel.

Friend: “guess what…this is totally still quiet and so don’t tell anyway, okay?”

Me: “Oooo, what!?”

Friend: “They’re not telling anyone yet, but D’s wife is pregnant.”

Me, heart racing in anger, eyes rolling “cool.” (they had been married for barely a year?) I know it shouldn’t matter if someone is married less than me, but it does. I have been married longer, I deserve a baby first.

Friend: “With twins! Hahahahaha, D, with twins! SO funny. Poor D, just picturing him with twins makes me laugh. HAHA”


Okay not really, but I really wanted to say it. How could my own best friend be SO CLUELESS? It just goes to show that no matter what you say, how many tears you cry on their shoulder, if they conceived easily or haven’t even tried for babies yet, they WILL NEVER GET IT. DON’T EXPECT THEM TO. THEY JUST WONT.

Cut to my mother in law, who is obsessed with babies. You know, the one who “Has never mentioned this to anyone (lie- she tells me every 3-6 months) but “All I have ever wanted was to be a grandma.” Yeah. that one. She and her sister (Aunt C) were visiting us here in Hawaii-land and I opened up a little to Aunt C because she is usually so empathetic and wise- easy to talk to about anything. Well……. First, she wants me to relax or adopt and I will get pregnant (the usual idiotic remarks) and then she mentioned for some reason God only knows… That she got pregnant EVERY TIME they got lazy about birth control. Every. single. time. So, those 4 times! Why would you say that to someone struggling with infertility!?!?!?! WHYYY!?????!

It’s the mole effect.

This is how the mole effect works.

“We are struggling to have a baby.”


That’s how I hear it, anyway.