Celebrity Infertility

I have a confession. I am a self-professed and self-diagnosed consumer of celebrity trash. Ask me who just broke up with who, or who just got a DUI, and I can tell you the latest news almost down to the hour. I know. It's not the most upstanding way to spend my time, especially considering the transgressions the paparazzi have been exacting on people lately, but I've grown comfortable in my shamelessness over the years.

Anyhow, maybe it's just me and my addiction to celebrities, but I found this read really interesting. And somehow, it made me feel a little less lonely.

A Day in the Life...

Of the infertility challenged female:


The inevitable wall of babies as you wait....


A pair of stirrups and a pretty blue skirt made of plastic, except no one's going on a pony ride:




The only ride you'll be going on today is aptly referred to as the dildo cam. Except it's not as fun as the name would suggest:









And lastly, the moment you've all been waiting for, follie check. Will all those who are ready to be stimmed please stand up? (sung to the tune of 'Slim Shady')







And so, IUI #6 begins...final stretch before the BIG IVF.

Expect the Worst, Hope for the Best

The way in which the last 3 minutes I blogged about ended sent me into a personal crash and burn of sorts. Hopefully this is temporary. For the most part, it always has been. The lowest of lows, the deep self-pity and the howling crying fests that leave me dehydrated stay just long enough to see me through to the next cycle where hope shows up again, though a bit dimmer. Someone (and I'm not sure whom-one of my 50 rss feeds) blogged eloquently about the difference between expectations and hope. My heart and mind tried to desperately clutch to delineating between these two concepts, but it was too late. Not only did I hope this cycle would yield a BFP, I expected it would. Even after 3 other failed cycles and knowing how dangerous that can be, I stepped right into that trap. Silly, silly me. After 4+ years, I know better.

Never since my first IUI, when I naively believed in unmitigated success, did I find myself so crushed by infertility defeat. I was truly surprised by my belief in this one as I've always been able to keep myself at a somewhat protective distance. Why this one? Well, perhaps it was because it fell on the heels of the last one, which was successful, so to speak. So, here I am, getting up and dusting myself off, heading straight into IUI #6. Imagine that. I never thought I would see IUI #6. Not that I ever thought I would have a baby before this point, but that I never thought I would let this many IUIs sneak in the door before chasing IVF down. But there's a good reason for where we are. Mr. S. and I had some more frank financial discussions about IVF funding and the reality is, everything will come out of pocket. Insurance will cover nothing. More roadblocks I suppose (such is the life of IF), but because I would walk to work naked with no food in my stomach to have a baby, I'll make it happen. Damn skippy. I just have to keep remembering, expect the worst, hope for the best.