I had some brown spotting earlier this week.

Followed by a day of no symptoms.

We also announced our pregnancy on Facebook this week.


Those statements seem like they don’t go together. And I know for a fact some of the “likes” I received probably had a bit of side-eye attached to them. I used to be one of those women. The one who would roll her eyes at early announcers and wonder how they could be so naive. So unaware of all the dangers around them.

But is that any way to go through a pregnancy? Constantly in fear? Holding back your excitement and joy because of what ifs?

The first trimester rule is a somewhat arbitrary line. From what I can tell, your miscarriage risk has a lot to do with personal factors (age, smoking, prior miscarriage, uterine/cervical issues, etc), and it actually seems to drop at about 9 weeks, not 12. Seeing a heartbeat also drastically changes your numbers. And even if your risk is super low, you can still miscarry. It’s nowhere near as simple as people want to believe.

I also know (well, Internet-know) too many women who lost babies after the supposedly miraculous first trimester line. Holding back till 12 weeks didn’t save them from anything. And telling before 12 weeks isn’t going to change the reality of a miscarriage if it happens.

I know the argument is, “You’ll, like, have to tell people.”

But as we were progressing in our brief adventure in infertility, I had the realization that I hated that no one knew what we were going through. I just had to smile and answer their questions calmly. “No, we’re not trying yet.” “Yeah, we want to wait to have kids.” “Whew, yeah, super glad to still be child-free!” And it sucked.

I had already made the decision to come out about seeking treatment. And then we got our positive.

Perhaps telling will jinx us. But I know if suffering through infertility in silence was hard, suffering through a miscarriage in silence would be even harder.

And telling was awesome. It was joyful and happy and amazing. I felt courageous and free and everything about it felt right. I wouldn’t give that moment up for anything.

And I haven’t had a day of spotting since.





Measuring exactly right: 6w 4d. We saw and heard a healthy heartbeat. It looks like a Kakuna.

The nausea makes sense now. I have a wasp in my uterus.

I haven’t been blogging since the BFP. And it’s because of one simple fact.


The first trimester fucking sucks.


I’m obviously incredibly grateful to be pregnant. And I definitely get that it’s all worth it in the end. And I know it’s bad taste to bitch about pregnancy when you have had the threat of infertility looming over you.


But, you guys, it really, really sucks.

Pictured: Michael Cera, 6 weeks pregnant.

And I’ll tell you what, my hats off to the women who work full-time jobs while dealing with it, cause I’m not getting anything done. My day essentially goes like this:


8:00 am: Wake up briefly, consider getting up. Feel an immediate wave of pregnancy exhaustion and roll back over.

11:00 am: Wake up briefly, feel a wave of nausea. Sometimes, if I’m lucky, I can fall back asleep and avoid dealing with it. Most of the time, it’s so strong that I can’t go back to sleep. Plus, since we have no A/C in this house, the 85-90 degree heat of my room (not exaggerating) makes the nausea so bad that falling back to sleep would be impossible.

11:00 am – 12:00 pm: Lay in bed, checking Facebook and hoping the nausea calms down enough so I can get out of bed. I am also usually coughing and clearing my throat a lot during this period, as the fan we have to keep running all night to be able to sleep gives me a wicked sore throat in the morning.

12:00 pm: Get up. Brush my teeth if I think I won’t gag too badly. Wash face. Wander into kitchen and veto everything in the room as too gross to even consider touching. Cry a little bit because I’m starving, but too nauseous to eat.

12:30 pm: Sit on the couch, exhausted and hungry. Wonder how I’m supposed to get anything done when I can barely walk around without barfing, nonetheless clean or run errands. Feel guilty and shitty and sorry for myself.

1:00 pm: Shower. Continue feeling sorry for myself. Have a brief craving for a cheeseburger, which sounds disgusting five seconds later. Get dressed. Have a brief craving for a smoothie, which sounds disgusting five seconds later. Possibly put on make-up, usually not since sex is barely a reality in this household since this bullshit kicked in. Also sit around for a good while feeling exhausted and nauseous and pitiful. Seriously consider napping.

2:oo pm: If I’m lucky, I’ll nibble some crackers and sip ice water or ginger ale and I will feel good enough to eat something more. But some days the crackers make me feel like gagging.

2:00 pm-4:30 pm: Lay around. Watch too much internet crap. Do some chores here and there- just enough to keep up the illusion of cleanliness without exerting too much of the energy I don’t have. Wait for The Hubs to get home so I can feel less alone and crappy.

4:45 pm: Hubs gets home. I apologize for the house not being actually clean, for dinner not being ready, for looking so crappy, for being a bad wife. He looks at me like I’m crazy, tells me that he wanted me to be able to stay-at-home while pregnant so I wouldn’t stress out so much, so stop stressing out. Then he asks me what I want for dinner. I vacillate and act like this is the biggest decision of my life until I finally land on something that doesn’t sound absolutely putrid. I suggest it to him, immediately regretting saying it because it now sounds horrible. He goes and gets the fixings for it and makes it, or else picks it up from somewhere.

5:30 pm: I force myself to eat a real dinner and usually feel a little better. Still not good enough for sex or anything, but enough to feel human.

This is how I flirt these days. It’s purpose is to turn him off as much as possible.

5:30 pm-11:00 pm: Hubs and I talk, watch Netflix, play video games and I feel mostly okay, so it’s pretty much the best part of my day. Sometimes I fit a nap in.

11:30 pm: Hubs goes to sleep. Generally, my sleeping all day/napping has ruined my ability to easily fall asleep at this point. Plus, the full meal I had is usually wearing off at this point and I am back in the incredibly hungry/nothing sounds good/wanting to puke cycle.

?????: I eventually fall asleep.


It’s just been a bad time. And let’s top it all off with pretty constant miscarriage fears (I’ve had some uterine cramping. No spotting, but it scares the bejeezus out of me anyway when the cramping feels JUST like the start of my period.) I know I have no reason to be that afraid of miscarriage. I’m young, healthy, don’t smoke and am basically an ideal pregnancy candidate. But being on the Internet, reading infertility blogs, participating in message boards: you meet too many women with multiple losses to ever think you could be lucky enough to have a successful first pregnancy.

So that’s my life. Outside of the “if all goes well, we might have a healthy baby at the end of nine months” thing, it kinda sucks. I feel guilty about feeling that way (and guilty about pretty much all of the above), but I’m working on it.

And it scares me. I’m barely pregnant. There’s nine months of shitty, random symptoms?


Ever noticed how creating new life kinda makes you want to kill yourself?

Okay, yes, I failed on the 5th day of my blogging challenge. That was pretty unexpected.

And yeah, I am failing again cause I’m not posting a blogging challenge today either. Also unexpected.

But it doesn’t really beat the most unexpected.

photo1 (2)


Five out of five fucking WORKED. That is the blurriest photo I have ever taken, because my hands were shaking so hard, but it’s undeniably positive.


I have never seen a positive test in real life. Ever. It’s so incredibly surreal.

I had the distinct privilege of calling my RE this morning and telling her I could cancel my final consult before meds, because I got a positive test. The receptionist kindly switched my appointment from a consult to a blood draw.

When the doctor called with the results, she said, “Oh, I guess you just decided you didn’t want to do a consult, huh? You just decided to get pregnant instead!”

My beta at 12 DPO was 91. From what I have researched, it’s a pretty sweet number for 12 DPO.

The Hubs lost it this morning. I had this super cute plan to tell him, with these adorable baby shoes and everything. But he forgot his boots this morning and surprised me by coming home about 10 minutes after I took the test. I really did my best to hold it in, but as he was leaving, I just blurted it out. He grabbed me, lifted me above his head, hugged me, fell on the bed with me, hugged me some more and after that just stood there, dazed. Like, really dazed and distant. It really hit him.


For the record, I did have a weird symptom: heartburn, from about 7 DPO onward. I have had heartburn maybe twice in my whole life, so having it several days in a row was weird. I am also experiencing a lot of little twinges in my uterine area, and a bit of a lower backache. So there it is, for the symptom analyzers who found this blog by typing “12 DPO, heartburn, backache” into Google.


So, I do feel a bit weird about this positive though, in light of my blog subject matter. I mean, what kind of infertility blog is this? Less than 10 posts and you’re already pregnant without meds. You weren’t infertile, chica.

And I kinda agree with that. I feel in this weird limbo where, for a while, I was dealing with the barest bit of the mental struggle of infertility, but I still am not really in “the club” (what a dubious club that is). And the year we tried was hell too, with incredibly frustrating cycles to deal with. So I don’t think I totally got off the hook, emotion-wise, but I also get that I don’t really know what being “infertile” means. Because even if the worse happens with this pregnancy, I at least know I can get pregnant naturally, and I’m very grateful for that alone.

I still feel like this post could be important though. It’s important for women who have tried for a year without success who may just need to get their timing on point. Or couples who are on the threshold of medical cycles, and want the hope that, sometimes, you can get a miracle at the last minute.



I couldn’t leave without one funny image.

Day 4: Your Views on Religion


Oof. Prepare to be insulted, my readers!

No, I’ll try to not be offensive. But I am pretty anti-religion in general. I think people are better off when their moral compass comes from an internal motivation, rather than an external praise & punishment system. The Hubs is often asked by religious (read as Christian, because we live in America and most other religions try to stay pretty quiet to avoid being ministered to by Christians) people, “But, without God, how do you not just, like, kill people and stuff?” (I’m not making this up, he has received this question MULTIPLE times.) He always responds with, “Wait, is God the ONLY thing keeping you from just murdering people? Cause that’s terrifying.”

God: Not exactly anti-murder.

But let me go back a bit. I was born into a pretty standard family. My parents believed in the Christian god, but didn’t really attend church or anything like that. I think I was raised with basic Biblical stories, but it just wasn’t a really big deal.

Until my mother got super interested in religion when I was about 6 or 7. Then it really ramped up. Suddenly, my brother and I were being home-schooled and reading the Bible every single morning as part of school. (To be fair, my mother did home school because of the shitty school system we lived in, not because she thinks school is evil.) The television was often tuned to the ravings of TV preachers (my mother LOVED John Hagee and his rant-y, apocalypse-obsessed ways). We went to church almost every Sunday, both morning and night and on Wednesdays. We began reading the Left Behind series (don’t worry, it was the one designed for kids! Yay!)

Something else that should never be “for kids.”

I was expected to become “saved” and dedicate my life to Jesus. This became an intense source of anxiety for me, because I didn’t get what being saved meant. My mother described praying to Jesus and “feeling a glow, like his love was washing over me.” So, because the Bible had taught me that miracles were real things, I actually expected to feel a genuine glow and to feel Christ’s love wash over me.

Surprisingly enough, this never happened. I told my parents that I was saved so that they would love me and praise me for it, but secretly I would pray in my room for hours, crying and begging Jesus to save me and to let his love cover me. I was certain that he was refusing to save me because I had done something wrong. I was just too sinful to be saved.

Additionally, I had a very specific fear as a child, one that I had had from before the Christianity entered our house. I was deeply afraid of being left alone. I often had nightmares where I was left in my parents car by myself and for various reasons had to drive it by myself and figure out how to get help. These dreams terrified me.

For obvious reasons, this understandable fear meant that I also deeply feared the Rapture. The Left Behind series was completely terrifying to me because it was all about kids having to survive on their own once their parents were raptured or killed in the bloody aftermath. I envisioned myself waking up with my entire family gone and having to fend for myself and this TERRIFIED me. The Bible talks about a horn being blown to signal Jesus returning to rapture people, so if I heard a noise at night, I would wake in a cold sweat, convinced it was the horn, and check to make sure my parents were still in bed.

Sorry, I don’t really have a funny picture for this time in my life.

My parents had no clue, so I can’t be that mad at them for what happened. I’m sure they would have tried to comfort me if they knew, but I was a very private child. I didn’t want anyone to know how sinful and un-saved and terrible I was. My whole life was centered on religion, and I was terrified of being an outcast for how clearly awful I was. If Jesus didn’t want me, none of my family or friends would want me if they knew the truth.

And that is a big reason why I am anti-religion in general. I don’t really care what an adult wants to believe in their own spare time, but I cringe when I see children being given only one specific worldview through the lens of religion. True, most kids have a happy experience with religion. But some kids can’t do it. I really do believe faith is something not all people are capable of, because it was something I desperately wanted and never managed to have. And I just want to reach in and help all those kids like me, those silent sufferers, who feel alone and horrible about themselves because they just can’t believe how they’re supposed to. It’s a horrible place to be in, and one I wouldn’t want anyone to suffer. So, yeah, I’m pretty anti-child indoctrination and, unfortunately, just about every religion pulls that shit. And it’s fucking awful.

Anyone remember this kid from the Jesus Camp documentary? I sob my eyes out when I see him struggling to believe, struggling to have faith that his brain just won’t let him have. It’s kids like this that make me despise religion.

So, you don’t have to be insulted by my post if your religion doesn’t do that. If it allows a child to make their own choices at an appropriate age, without holding hellfire and damnation over their heads to “encourage” them, you’re good and I hope your religion fulfills you personally. But, if your religion does anything along the lines of, “It’s your choice, but you will burn in eternity and be separated from everyone you love if you don’t pick correctly”, I don’t really give a shit about insulting you.

Oh, and I also think religion and politics need to be on polar opposite sides of the fucking world, but that is a whole ‘nother rage-y post, and I think this one is full of enough tears and rage for one day.


Day 3: Your View on Drugs and Alcohol


Does anyone else feel like this is a dumb question? I really feel like my views on this topic are really average. No real revelations to discuss. But the other question was even worse, so I’m sticking with this one.


At 24, I am now growing out of my “loving to get fucked up” phase. Also, I live in an incredibly dry climate, and hangovers are a BITCH here, so this makes me hesitate to drink more and more. Still, I enjoy the taste of alcohol and will probably always order a nice mixed drink or a beer when The Hubs and I go out to eat. I will definitely miss it if/when I get knocked up. But I think, for the most part, my days of getting intentionally fucked up are over.

I feel like I should write how I feel about alcohol in general, but I really don’t have many thoughts. Drink it if you want to, abstain if you don’t. I do find people who are obnoxiously against alcohol annoying. My brother had a friend who would consistently attend parties where drinking was the main activity and abstain in really obvious ways. Like, he wouldn’t just pour himself a coke and join in on the fun while sober. He would shun every drinking game and loudly announce that he was having juice. Like, dude, just don’t come to the party, okay?  Sitting in the corner and judging us from afar makes you a dick.


I personally don’t partake in drugs. I smoked pot a few times in the past. Two times I had fucking amazing experiences, three times nothing really happened, and one time was fucking agonizingly horrible. And I haven’t smoked since. (Okay, I did take a teeny hit after the bad experience, just to see if I could do it again, but I immediately felt paranoid and immediately went to sleep.)

The agonizing experience was basically a result of my smoking with people I didn’t know well, who were much more advanced smokers than I, who I felt the need to impress, so I smoked way more than I should, immediately my anxiety took over, I started panicking really bad and The Hubs had to come get me. I spent what felt like hours crying and begging him to make it stop. Once he finally got me in the quiet car, and we just drove through the dark streets, I stopped freaking out as much. But I really think my anxiety has made it impossible for me to enjoy it ever again.

My anxiety is also the reason why I will never try harder drugs. If pot makes me lose my shit, I don’t think dropping X or taking a hit of coke will be any better.

I do think pot should be legalized. I also don’t really care if a person chooses to use drugs in their spare time, though I would be concerned if a friend was using an addictive substance on a regular basis. But I also get concerned about friends who can’t go a day without caffeine. And if they were arrested in possession of the drug, I wouldn’t go, “Oh, the fucking Man got you!” I would probably be like, “Well, it is illegal.” I think that people can take whatever risks they want, and drug use is just another risky activity some people choose to do. I don’t, my husband doesn’t and I hope to educate my children on those risks, but I’m not going to turn it into a moral issue.

Dude, this was a boring post. On the plus side, I got to look at sweet It’s Always Sunny gifs. Win-win.

Okay, no, this wasn’t posted on “Day 2”. But until I go to bed, it’s still the right day, okay?


5 Likes & Dislikes


Like #1) The Color Pink – I used to be in major denial of this fact and for a very long time claimed black as my favorite color. Pink was too girly, you see. It was when I looked at my wardrobe and realized a lot of my shirts and underwear and pants were pink that I came to my senses.

I have these and also want the light pink pair

Dislike #1) Mushrooms and Olives- I am a pretty big veggie girl and if it wasn’t for these two devil ingredients, I would love supreme pizza. But I just can’t. Olives are waaay too salty. I am not a salt person. I never get the rim of my drink salted and I actually buy the light salted chips whenever I can. And mushrooms are too spongey. Blurgh. Texture is huge for me, and mushrooms are not for me.

It looks amazing in theory.

Like #2) Gone With the Wind- I read this book for the first time and have loved it and all incarnations of it ever since. Sure, it’s pretty problematic. It tells a total fairytale of what the Old South was like and the treatment of black people is pretty atrocious. BUT, the writing is amazing, the characters are exciting, the dialogue is sharp and smart, and it’s the only truly exciting love story I can think of. I read it all the time and it is always a page-turner for me. I love the book and the movie and have quite an extensive memorabilia collection as well. I mean, I have boxed Rhett and Scarlett Barbie dolls in my bedroom- it’s my thing.

Oh, and most important, it is the origin of this blog’s title.


Dislike #2) Meat- This really should have been first, but I’m just typing them as I think of them, and this is such an integral part of my life, it didn’t really occur to me. I have just never been a meat person. I do eat meat. Mostly chicken or ground beef mixed with other ingredients. But if the main dish is just meat? Nope. I just don’t think meat has any real flavor, and definitely not enough to make up for the atrocious texture. And anytime I am expected to dissect my food in order to avoid veins of fat or bones or weird wiggly bits? Yeah, no, I’m out. So while I can do, say, a taco or ground beef stroganoff, if it’s steak or porkchops or fried chicken…..yech.

I just puked a little bit.

Like #3) Legend of Zelda- Okay, quick admission: I was born in 1990. So no, I did not play the original Zelda. I was introduced to the game with Ocarina of Time. I have attempted to play earlier games, but straight up: early gaming consoles were WAY harder than modern ones, and I am not that talented. This does make me a bit of a “late bandwagon” Zelda fan, but I’m still proud to have been introduced to the series with what is arguable one of the best video games ever made. I am a huge fan of the series and Link will remain my first and only animated character crush.

Type “sexy link legend of zelda” into Google images. SafeSearch off for bonus points!

Dislike #3) Windows PCs- Okay, I am not really an elitist when it comes to tech, but holy shit, once you go Mac, you cannot go back! I get incredibly angry now every time I get on a Windows system. It’s inexplicable, but they piss me off the entire time I use them. I don’t care if other people use them and I will never try to push Mac onto anyone, but I fucking hate Windows.

Like #4) Chapstick- This is less of a like and more of an addiction, but it’s one I am perfectly happy with. I started using around the time I expected to get my first kiss, and have needed Chapstick ever since. I keep a tube with me at all times (medicated only, with the wrapper pulled off) and will apply approximately 10 times a day. My husband knows that if we leave the house and I forgot my Chapstick, it’s pretty much going to be a shitty time, because I will complain about it at regular intervals. And yes, I’ve heard the schtick about Chapstick drying your lips our worse, so you need it more all the time and it’s worse for you than just staying hydrated…..don’t care. I love using it and always will.

Me, 10 times a day.

Dislike #4) ~90% of the Pregnant Women on My Facebook- Yes, this is the bitter infertile in me talking, but this shit also pissed me off before all of that. Last week, a chick I know posted a “baby bump” at 5 weeks. FIVE WEEKS. Bitch, that is not a baby bump, that is Taco Bell. Your stomach is not like the fucking Princess and the Pea, a minuscule clump of cells does not give you a noticeable baby bump. Or the ones who have NOTHING else to post but pregnancy stuff. Pre-pee stick, these women had interesting lives and posted diverse statuses. Post-pee stick, EVERYTHING is about being pregnant. I get that once you are a mother your life is pretty much baby 24/7, but when you are pregnant, life goes on! You can eat a salad without telling me it was because “baby” wanted it! I have a lot of rants on this topic, so I’ll leave it for another post, but early baby bumps and pregnancy obsession are probably my top two.

The good thing is, I have learned a lot of things to NEVER do when I finally get knocked up.

Like #5) Alone Time- I’m a pretty big introvert and all of my favorite hobbies involve me being by myself, in my own world. Reading, surfing the internet, logic puzzles, watching documentaries, listening to music. I like all that stuff for what it is, but I also love the alone time that comes with them. I’m pretty happy just being by myself. When I get lonely, I have The Hubs to turn to and only every once in a while do I feel the urge to hang out with anyone else. That’s just me.

Dislike #5) Winter- I HATE being cold. I really don’t like driving in snow, wind is the worst, it’s dreary and dark out all the time, and people are just shittier in general when it’s cold out. (Carts left in parking spots are a big pet peeve of mine, and that shit quadruples in wintertime). Now, I do like Christmas, and I can see where theoretically I would miss the snow and wintery feel if I spent Christmas in Florida or something, but I’m pretty sure all it would take is two seconds back in a midwestern winter before I pledged my love for Florida forever. 

Those are my 5 off-the-top-of-my-head likes & dislikes! Now you know me!

So, to get me in the habit of blogging more often, I’m embarking on a 30 Day Challenge. One question, one post, each day, for 30 days. I may interrupt the 30 days if I have a more significant post about infertility or something else going on, but I’m going to post once a day no matter what.

I scanned around for blogging challenges and most of them had one or two questions that just sucked. (Multiple lists had “disrespecting parents” as a prompt. Not only does this reveal a lot about the demographics of these challenges, it also doesn’t make sense. Like, are you writing an example of disrespect? Or your opinion of it? I’m so confused.)

My solution to the sucky questions was to take two lists and I’ll just pick my favorite question between the two. Maybe answer both if you’re really lucky and I’m super bored.

Okay, here goes:

Day 1: Your current relationship



This is my best friend. And this photo pretty well sums up our relationship.

We’ve been together….mmmm….approximately forever. We began “dating” at the age of 10 and never stopped. People were always really surprised by that when I was growing up and my stock answer was always, “I never had a reason to break up with him.” And yeah, that’s not very romantic and doesn’t begin to cover my feelings for this man, but it’s also really true. Every issue and problem we have encountered has always been something we would rather work through than lose each other over. And I think that’s a pretty important thing in relationships.

We managed to grow into our own people while also growing up together. Part of this is because we were long distance for a large part of our dating life, including high school. This was more of a blessing than curse, in my opinion. It saved me from a lot of dysfunctional dating I would have done (a topic for another post, but my mom REALLY fucked me up about men and relationships, so any dating I would have done would have been horrendous) and it allowed our relationship to be about talking and getting to know each other rather than sex and heated passion. Not saying all teen relationships are like that but, well…I’m also not saying they aren’t.

Yeah, this pretty much sums up dysfunctional teen dating for me. All of these “quotes on top of pretty people” pictures do.


We love being together, but also give each other space. We talk about everything, share opinions on most things, and discuss and appreciate those things we don’t agree on. He is the only person who I completely trust and am completely myself with. I never imagined I would marry that kid I had a crush on in church, but now I really can’t imagine my life without him.

Things that make our relationship work: We never call each other names, no matter how angry we get. We hug and kiss after every fight. We are both allowed to watch porn and be attracted to other people. We try to be as honest as possible. We have the same goals in life: happiness, enough money to get by, and a family. We’re both feminists. We let each other be human, which means sometimes I judge him too harshly, and sometimes he doesn’t listen to me well, but it doesn’t mean we aren’t meant for each other, we just have flaws to work on. The sex is great

We make each other laugh, we aren’t afraid to cry in front of each other and spending time together is the most effortless thing I know.

He’s just my favoritest person in the world. Always marry your favoritest person in the world. It’s basic logic.

Juno is actually a pretty wise movie. Really.



It’s been a bit, hasn’t it? My excuse for not posting was not one, but two “vacations” with family. The first was a week (a WEEK) with in-laws, and the second was my brother’s basic training graduation which both of my divorced parents would be attending- only the second time they have been within miles of each other since the divorce. I wanted to post about the first one, because it was hilariously bad, but I spent the days afterward recovering so I would be able to survive the next one.

I only barely survived the second one. Somehow the “we’re both just here for your brother” attitude my parents had had turned into “daughter, YOU must fix our problems because we’re only here for your brother but that doesn’t mean we are actually going to be mature adults about it!” I legitimately had two crying fits in the hotel room. Not just crying, but uncontrollable, can’t-breathe, snotting-everywhere, ugly sobbing.

No, seriously, this is way prettier than how I looked.

No, seriously, this is way prettier than how I looked.

The Hubs did such a good job though. I could tell he wanted to go yell at both of my parents, but he knows it’s really important for me to handle this myself. So he just offered to walk into the shower with all his clothes on to hold me. He’s pretty much the greatest.


Anyway, that’s my excuse for not writing: I blame my parents.

In positive news, Tricare accepted my request for a new doctor and I LOVE HER. AND her assistant. AND the receptionists. AND the nurses.

It was just one big love-fest for me, really. All those fantasies of super awesome REs I had in the last post? It was all true.

They had me fill out at least 20 pages of medical history with at least 5 of those pages covering every detail of my cycles, my concerns, my issues. And then, get this, they actually REVIEWED it with me. Like, read through it with me and my husband, asking for clarification and taking notes and believing me! Like I was people and everything!

Oh, wait, nope, cause I had an ice cream shake right afterwards. The day actually couldn’t get any better.

So, the tentative diagnosis is irregular ovulation and possible PCOS tendencies. They decided to run a few more tests to check on the PCOS. And while they think irregular ovulation isn’t a huge problem (natural pregnancies result from irregular cycles all the time) they still want to see if getting my hormones in better order doesn’t solve the problem.

So as of next month, if I’m not pregnant from this cycle (more on that later), I will be embarking on my first medicated cycle; Letrozole, an ovulation trigger and timed intercourse.

On that note, let’s talk about timing for a bit.

So timing definitely isn’t everything. People get knocked up from one act of sex all the time. But it’s also pretty damn important if you want it to happen sooner rather than later.

I recently discovered that The Hubs and I have terrible sex timing.

Here is what FertilityFriend has to say about our timing so far:



Okay, little bit of explanation. The dates are out of order cause of my clearly excellent technology skills, and the ones that say “not detected” are cycles where I screwed up temping and ovulation was never detected. Also, there are only three ratings for timing: low, good and high. No, these words don’t really go together, but whatever.

Anyway, out of 12 recorded cycles, we have gotten “good” 5 times. So we have only had a decent chance of conceiving less than half of the cycles we have been trying.

Again, this isn’t a strict science. Any one of those cycles with a green dot could have resulted in pregnancy, technically. But they say that the worse your timing is, the less likely you will conceive within a year.

So there is every possibility we could still get knocked up naturally. This makes me happy and also gives me way too much hope for my own good.

Indeed, Morgan Freeman, indeed.

I have considered backing out of the RE and doing the natural thing for a while as well due to this info, but I don’t think the ravings of my obsessive brain and one FertilityFriend tool is a good enough reason to ignore the “one year” rule.

Anyway, this brings us to this cycle. I discussed this with The Hubs, letting him know that between him going to the field, me being constantly sick (seriously, this is a topic for a separate post, but I am ALWAYS sick. I’m sick right now, actually.), and my body randomly choosing to ovulate a week after we have gotten sick of having sex all the time, our timing has sucked. I also told him that I felt a bit like I was forcing him to have sex with me cause I am the one always in charge of procreation scheduling.

So he totally took charge. He asked all kinds of questions and told me that he was dictating the sex schedule this month, and that we were getting five days out of five, goddammit.

And we DID! WE DID!

photo1 (1)

Oh my god, you guys, it’s so pretty.

So, this cycle, my hopes are higher than they have ever been before. EVER.

What was that you said before, Morgan Freeman?

Dammit, Morgan Freeman.



CD 11


Yesterday was absolutely ridiculous.

I have been struggling with the doctor we were assigned to by Tricare. I am pretty sure she is A) an OB/GYN, not an RE and B) a bitch.

Her way of introducing herself to us was by immediately scolding me for not completely filling out my initial patient paperwork. This was after I had apologized to the nurse for not having the time to complete it, as I was called back to the exam room very quickly. And this lovely doctor chose, “You need to complete your patient form!” as her way of saying hello.

So, not the best beginning.

And as we dealt with her through that first meeting, I slowly began to suspect she was not actually and RE, but Tricare’s answer to a cheap RE alternative. She could not care less about my year of charts I brought with me. She ignored the fact that I have clear evidence I have ovulated most of the cycles I have been charting. In fact, she kind of acted like she didn’t “believe” in temping at all. She began talking about prescribing Clomid during this initial testing month, without ultrasound monitoring.

And, ya know, she was a total bitch. I like to pretend all REs are sweet, gentle, kind doctors who will be respectful to their patients.

She acted like I was an idiot and when I asked questions about the fairly complicated testing process, she was incredibly condescending. As usual, I was unaware of this fact in the moment, and The Hubs was holding back for my sake and because of that whole “rank” thing that means he can’t tell a colonel to shut the fuck up.

In any case, we leave with a clear understanding that I was going to go in for a fasting lab on Monday morning, and then call once I hit CD 1 to get the month-long blood work started.

And yet, when I went to the lab that Monday, there was no blood work entered in the computer.

Yes. The condescending bitch who acted like I was going to fuck up the testing, FUCKED UP THE TESTING. And her part was the easy part!

So when I FINALLY get through to her office and FINALLY get her to enter the lab work into the computer, I find out at the lab that she hasn’t ordered a simple blood draw. Oh no, she has ordered a damn 3 hour glucose challenge test.

Thanks for the warning, worst doctor ever.

Still a better doctor than mine.

So far, none of my blood work has been in the computer when it should have been, so I have had to call it in each time. The email address she specifically gave me if I had questions is apparently “never checked” according to her nurse. When I told the nurse that I needed to talk to the doctor about my Clomid concerns before talking the medicine, I was told I needed to make another appointment. I opted to decline the Clomid instead, particularly when I was told that this doctor “doesn’t do ultrasound monitoring.”

But I kept telling myself I was going to get through this first month of testing and then start the arduous process of fighting Tricare for a new referral to an actual RE. (I have yet to get confirmation that she is only an OB and not an RE, mostly because I can’t figure out a nicer way to ask than, “You’re just an OB, right? Not actually an RE? Thank God!”)

So, yesterday, I call at 9 am to get my CD 10 blood work in the computer. I go through the convoluted phone system, and leave a message with the main medical office. I get a call back an hour later from the women’s clinic letting me know she needs to talk to the doctor, but will call me back once the blood work is all entered. I do some chores, and lay down for a little nap, figuring the phone call from the clinic would wake me up.

I woke up at 3 pm. No phone call.

So at this point the office has both botched my blood work AND made me sleep all day. Not cool, clinic. Not cool.

So I call back. This time, since the lab is going to close in an hour and a half, I was actually sent straight to the person I needed to talk to. She told me the doctor STILL HADN’T ENTERED MY BLOOD WORK. Oh, and she was with a patient, so she couldn’t enter it until she was done with that appointment.

Did I mention this is CD 10 blood work? Which means it HAS to be done on CD 10? And the lab, which is a 20 minute drive away, closes at 4:30?

I inform the nurse/receptionist of this and her response to my somewhat exasperated, “Will I be able to get my blood drawn today?” is “Oooo, maybe not.”

Really? REALLY?

So I jump in the car to drive to the hospital, in the hopes that my lab work will be entered by the time I get there. On the way I get another call from the nurse/receptionist. I wish Nurse Receptionist (her new name) was my RE. She was super nice and was just calling because she could tell I was distressed and wanted me to know that she wasn’t going home until I had my lab work entered and that they would figure something out to get my blood drawn. She also informed me that I shouldn’t have had to call in my blood work any of those times, and that, get this, the doctor usually has it laid out by date for her patients.

So, basically, Bitch Doctor (her new name) is purposely screwing me over. Bitch has it out for me.

After getting off the phone with my new best friend, Nurse Receptionist, I call The Hubs, and get him nice and angry about it too. It’s my way of venting.

I get to the hospital and wait. And wait. And The Hubs shows up and we wait. And wait. And leave to go get food and then, right when I am ready to eat my giant cheeseburger out of pure hangriness, I get the call that Labor & Delivery is ready to draw my blood. One more time:

Who sends an angry infertile woman to LABOR AND MOTHERFUCKING DELIVERY to get her blood drawn?


Immediately upon checking in to L&D, the receptionist asks how far along I am.


So we sit in the waiting room, the sounds of crying babies and happy families around us, and I am this close to blowing a fucking gasket.

I get my blood drawn, which takes all of 3 minutes, and finally leave the hospital at 6:30.

It took Bitch Doctor 9 hours to get this blood work done. Completely ridiculous.

So I won’t be all that surprised if the blood results come back as “VERY ABNORMAL. BLOOD WAS BOILING HOT AND ALL BLOOD CELLS WERE FLIPPING THE BIRD AT TECHNICIANS.”

You get really weird stuff when you type “Angry Blood Cell” into Google.