Drum roll please... originally written January 28th, 2014

See the disclaimer here.

January 28, 2014

So for those of you who have been anxiously sitting on the edge of your seats, patiently waiting to see if I am indeed pregnant or not. I..... [drum roll please] .......

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am not. Sorry folks. No exciting, celebration worthy news here. Which means, onto the next level of infertility we go. We're "official" now. Well, I am anyways. Three months of $ free trying are over. Now we're bringing out the bad boys and paying for this sh*t.

And so, my forte into the world of infertility drugs begins. It still seems not quite right to me somehow. Infertility. I'm still so clearly in denial... but eagerly gobbling up my daily serving of Femara (a drug used for fertility). Next week to the day, I'll be shelling out some of that moolah I've been harboring in my baby fund for an ultrasound which should tell me how my ovaries are functioning. I'm praying like hell that those little guys.. or girls, are producing lots of shiny beautiful eggs ripe for the picking. And then, hubby gets to provide an, um, you know.. sample and off we go out of the gate. IUI here we come. I've made peace with it all. Or am trying to anyway. I'm still a little bitter that other people get to spend their money on new clothing, home decorations, vacations etc. and I get to spend all of mine on... doctor's appointments. But ya know, what'rya gonna do?! Life aint fair as they say. We're giving it two months. That's all I have before my savings are mostly depleted. If it hasn't worked out by then, we'll have to re-assess whether we want to continue shelling out cash for said baby dreams. I'm not so sure I'm ready to dig that deep in my pockets yet. I must say two months sounds perfect to me. First, it gives each ovary a fair shot at the game. Wouldn't want to be discriminatory or anything ya know. And secondly, it gives me a little de-stress, back up policy. There's not so much stress placed on this one and only shot we have.. because we have TWO golden tickets. So we'll see. Fingers and toes crossed as usual.

I also did something I've put off doing for over a year. I called my favorite psychic lady for a little tete-a-tete time. She did, after all, predict with accuracy my last pregnancy and had provided me tips on getting there. Amazingly, in the few minutes I chatted with her to set up the appointment, which isn't until next month, she remembered everything she had told me last time and was asking whether I was sticking to her suggestions. Which I wasn't. I felt like a child stammering my excuses but it also gave me a huge amount of hope that maybe this isn't so out of reach after all. She also, to my total excitement, joked that by the time I have my appointment with her I'll probably already be pregnant and won't even need the appointment. Not looking too much into that little tid bit because there's always a tendency for her to flip flop between polite, normal human communication and her psychic abilities and it wasn't quite obvious which she was using.. or being.. or whatever.

So between the good doc and my other worldly adviser, I really have some high hopes for myself and hubby. And don't let me fool you. This might seem all lighthearted and whimsical but I actually cried in church this weekend. It was quite embarrassing really. The tears and sniffling came out of nowhere. Well maybe not completely nowhere. The pastor told a sad story about his dog, followed by the story of someone dying and the image of Jesus weeping. I won't get too far into it but it was followed by a series of questions. What's burying you? What trouble is making you doubt? And it just seemed so clear that I've been burying myself in this tantrum I'm throwing. I'm the two year old on the floor screaming out to God that I want that baby and he's the mature adult telling me to be patient, or that maybe there are other things out there better for me or that I need to grow up and learn some lessons first. Whatever the reason, he's the adult and I'm the demanding child and it's just so not working for me. And it was just such an overwhelming moment because I was having a very similar conversation with my husband the night before. So Sunday, it really hit me hard. It was like the Pastor could have been speaking directly to me out of the crowd. I can't pretend this isn't a huge battle. A huge fight I'm trying to battle and to come to terms with every moment of every day. So that was that. I cried in church. We'll see where those tears eventually lead me but I'm definitely moving forward. One foot in front of the other on this journey.