Archive for the 'infertility' Category

How to make a baby

I recently saw an article about a site that will pay you to write a “how to” on just about anything. Anything?  Really?!?  Here goes!

Good morning class. Today’s lesson will begin on page 127 of your baby makin manuals where we get into the more detailed steps of life creation. We are going to skip the first 3 chapters that talk about sex, condoms, drunkin one-night-stands and “happy mistakes”. This class has no need for such behavior. In fact, its frowned upon to even engage in any of it if you’d like to change diapers any time in the near future.

Alright let’s get started. Getting pregnant is easy if you follow these 8 simple steps:

Give up sex: Sex is going to slow everything down and should be limited to never. You’re going to want your husband to store up butt loads of the good stuff and get a little “frustrated” shall we say. Besides, everyone knows that sex doesn’t make a baby anyway so its simply a waste of time.

Invite in a third party: I know what you’re thinkin, your mother told you that babies come from a “big hug between a man and a woman that love each other very much” and never once mentioned an audience!! Well. Your mom was wrong. If you really want to make a baby, you’re going to need to invite several other participants into your bedroom. In fact, it will just be easier to take this whole process on the road and out of the bedroom. You’ll need at least 2 doctors, 3 nurses, an anastesiologist, 2 pharmacists, 1 random therapist, and a surgical staff. If you are feeling like an exobisionist, add in an acupuncturist. It’s not necissary to feed them although it certainly couldn’t hurt.

Spend all of your money: Baby makin isn’t for the timid my friends. If you want to get to the good stuff, you’re going to have to make some serious sacrifices. All these new bff’s that you’re going to be hangin out with every other day for the next 45 to 65 days are gonna want to get paid and unfortunately, they went to really expensive schools and drive really expensive cars to their really expensive houses. If you want to keep up with them, you’re going to have to keep them happy in their lifestyle. Even at the expense of your own.

Invest in drug paraphernalia: Its true! While sex only takes a man and a woman – naked, Baby making requires drugs. And lots of them. This is the one time in your life where using needles and pills is going to be considered responsible. As long as you don’t get them from the alley behind Safeway. No need my little learning machines. Your new entourague will hand them out like candy. But I guess on the off chance you run out, those back alley needles are the same. O! And those alleys are a great place shoot up in a pinch. You know, like on the way to a dinner or a movie where you can’t do it. Don’t dismiss all those lovely spots that your fellow drug addicts have already scoped out. There’s a reason they work.

Take a vacation from your social life: Everyone could use a little break from their friends right? No? O well you’re going to have to just accept it. Baby creation has rules. Rules like no drinking, timed drugs, no sex and no sushi nights out with the girls. Plus, your new entourage is extremely needy. They want to hang out with you ALL the time. And they wont take no for an answer so sorry folks, your friends are just gonna have to be cool with it.

Go crazy: See, here’s where its going to be just fine to vaca from your pals for a bit. All those awesome drugs and doc visits may cause you to get a little loopy. Otherwise known as, get crazy as a fucking loon. You’re going to be as unpredictable as the weather and even your pets will fear you. But stick with it kids, because its this insanity that preheats the baby oven so that your entourage can put one in there to bake for the next 9 months. We all know how important preheating is right?

Spend some time in a hospital: When that preheat timer goes off, its time for the party! Doc baby maker might want to have this party in a hospital, in his office or in an outpatient facility. Don’t worry. He’ll send out invitations so you wont be left out. In fact, you’re going to be the guest of honor. But here’s the cool part, the dad? Well he wont be there at all. See…I told you your mom was wrong. Have you heard me mention a hug even once in this lesson? He will probably be at work or golfing or something. Hopefully he’ll be there to pick you up at the end of the party though. You will be in no shape to drive after this one. Think of this party like a rave. Its gonna go on for a couple of days and at the end, a baby will be cookin. See? That was easy right?

Rinse and repeat: How many men did you go through before you found the perfect Dad for your baby? Lots right? Well your baby oven may have to go on a few auditions before it gets the role. You may have to repeat this whole process a few times. Don’t worry, your new entourage would love to stick around for as long as you can afford them need them. When money becomes an issue, they’ll totally offer up all kinds of payment plans, loans, and medical studies to help you out. They are there for you. Going into insurmountable debt doesn’t matter to them. They want you to have a baby too!! Try again and again. It will work eventually.

And there you have it! A quick and easy process right? It may not be as fun as that mythical condom breaking, but the end result is just as awesome.

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O wow, I didn’t think I’d get these questions again.

OK let’s just put it out there. Now that I don’t have a job, it seems to be pretty obvious to everyone but me that I’m suppose to have a kid. “Maybe this was God telling you to focus on a family now.” “You should take this time to get pregnant.”

While arguably, pregnancies seem to gravitate towards the jobless, homeless and crack addicted, I’m pretty sure this isn’t exactly prime time for baby makin. I know it kinda looks like it. What with all my bon bon eating and tv watching and all. But the last time I checked, babies still liked diapers and food and stuff.

Actually, money isn’t really even the reason this seems like the absolute worst time. When people tell me to have a baby, I just keep getting visions of me, sitting in an office – interviewing for my next job – wearing a black tent (because I don’t think I’ve ever seen interview maternity clothes…should tell you something people) while rubbing my giant pregnant belly. Trying to convince someone to hire you because you are more qualified for the position and extremely dedicated to your career becomes rather difficult don’t ya think? I don’t think I can be that convincing if I need to leave halfway through to barf. And the tent might be distracting.

…oh and there’s still that pesky IVF cost.

Who’s the drunk in the corner?

Ladies ladies.  You underestimate the hardened babybound hahaha.  There will be no Mother’s Day brunch at my house.  No no.  That is just insanity at its finest.

I absolutely said no.  In fact, I said no I cann’t do it and have a very hard time with Mother’s Day in general.  I will not be a happy slave to the Mother’s on that day.  You do understand don’t you.  And I left it at that.

Favorite Aunt is hosting a Mother’s Day brunch at her house.  Its still up in the air whether I will go or not.  On the one hand, it will still be full of over praised mothers and their painful needs to point out that they are in fact better than me with all their baby makin.  On the other hand, its my fav Aunt and she lives 5 minutes from me and I like her.

I’m sure the food will be awesome and I know the wine will be plentiful.  As I sit here on this fence, I do feel myself leaning a little bit more towards the brunch side.  A day of getting completely wasted and making a fool of myself only to point out how much I hate them all for having babies kinda sounds fun doesn’t it?  At least it would be memorable and they simply can’t get mad at me.  I’m the broken one in pain!

Stay tuned…

Back me up here Muppets…its not just me right?

I recently got a comment that I absolutely must to respond to.  Not because it was bad.  Quite the opposite.  The commenter needs support, advice and to know that miscarriage isn’t like high school.  There aren’t a whole lot of mean girls behind her talkin trash and calling her fat.  While I’m kinda like the last person anyone should ever really listen to – which oddly seems to be exactly how everyone else feels as well – I’m going to dole out my best reply:

Dearest Emma,

Wow.  You have just gone through something gut wrenching.  It sucks ass.  The pain that you have experienced with years and years of trying to do something that so many people can do accidentally is only trumped by the pain of actually accomplishing it for a brief moment and failing to see it through.  I know.  I’m sorry.  While I know you have most likely been given all kinds of words of wisdom and advice about how you should feel, and how it will get better, and you’re not alone, and puppies and kittens and bla bla bla, I don’t really feel this is what you were asking me for.  Am I right?  We all know that nonsense and frankly, hearing it when we’re just a few weeks out from the death of our babies, we’d rather snap your head off your neck and pee in it just to get you to shut the fuck up.

When I lost Ashley, I was angry.  Nobody could make me not angry. All I wanted to do was hate everybody and make everybody around me go away.  This (kind of) included Mark.  While I didn’t blame him for our loss, I didn’t feel like he was doing a very good job of fixing it.  And after all, as my night in shining armor, damn it he should have fixed it.  It absolutely put a strain on our marriage and our communication went sour.

Part of me felt that I never ever ever wanted to intentionally put myself through that kind of pain again and didn’t think I’d ever see a future with a baby in it.  And yet, part of me was anxious to start the next cycle so that we could get this whole baby doin thing over with.  I only shared the former with Mark, but secretly wanted him to jump in and be Mr. Optimist pushing me to get right back on that horse.  He wasn’t.  We took a break.

It wasn’t long at all before I really really wanted to get started again and didn’t really see why we were waiting.  Seemed retarded actually.  And since Mark was going on his marry way waiting for me to say I was ready, I grew resentful of him.  Which, in turn, was retarded.

I’m not at all sure why, but for some reason I felt weird telling Mark I wanted to try again.  Like I was scared to even mention it.  I didn’t want him to be mad at me, not be ready and reject me, or judge me. (All while also resenting him for not figuring it out because…well frankly I’m complicated)  I kept it to myself for a long time.  I hinted, but would never flat out say:  WTF are we waiting for?

Here’s what I’ve since realized:

While you went through it together,

You: carried dead bodies inside yours.

He: watched his wife crumble in pain he never thought he’d witness and couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Its tragic for both of you.  You will never be able to understand each other.  The healing of each of these experiences isn’t going to be the same or happen at exactly the same time.  He doesn’t understand you and also doesn’t want to hurt you.  He basically doesn’t know what to do.  It takes time to get back to normal.  To not want to kill everyone.  To have optimism again and see that the world has an excellent plan for you.  While you are still physically healing, you’re mentally healing too.  And so is your husband.  Its ok.  And when you’re ready.  Tell him.

Why couldn’t I tell Mark I was ready?  Because I wasn’t (even though I totally thought I was).  But with time, I did tell him.  We started communicating again.  It didn’t seem weird to discuss an actual future with kids and spaghetti-o’s and everything.

I’m so sorry that you have to join our club.  Just reading your comment took me right back to where I was a few weeks after my MC.  I think (you know, from my awesome therapy couch here in virtual therapist land where I totally know everything about you and have every right to tell you what to you) you two just might not really be ready to talk about it.  Its ok.  You will be.

Now I’m just really hoping your not getting ready to pee in my head…cause I kinda need it.  Well.  I like to think I do…

I am super here me roar…

I am very proud of myself today.  No, I didn’t cure cancer or end world hunger, but I did do something rather difficult for any freak infertile woman.  I bought a baby shower gift.  I know right?  I’m growing.

So this shower that I was suppose to go to last week but got moved to this week and then got canceled because the baby wasn’t invited but decided to crash anyway.  Yeah the shower that has had my head wrapped around it for a couple of weeks now because I didn’t want to fucking have anything to do with it but I liked the mom-to-be so so so much fuck fuck fuck have trouble with all things baby.  Well?  Even though I completely dodged a bullet here, I still felt that I absolutely had to get her a baby gift.  I wanted to get her a baby gift.  This is a coworker that I actually like a lot.  And I am truly happy for her blessing.  Just because God hates me doesn’t mean I should be spreading the hate.  That’s just gonna get me in trouble and frankly, I’m not really very good at being the one that sucks the life out of the room.  There are plenty of those out there.  I hope that isn’t a really terrible assessment of myself because I really don’t like those people and I want to like myself.

My original idea was to get her a pedicure.  Something for her.  Its something she likes/needs/wants while also being something that I don’t have to cry over.  Its like a win win.  It would have been perfect.  We’d go together.  Have a great time.  She’d get to be a girl for a minute rather than a mom.  Awesome.

Baby clearly reviewed the offering and felt otherwise.  He wasn’t havin none of that polish remover and warm foot water.  I believe his exact words were “Ah heellll nah. I’m gitten the fuck outta hea.  Screw dat shit.”  This kid has a potty mouth let me tell you.

So at the drawing board I was faced with only one option.  An actual baby gift.  And all she wanted was baby boy clothes.  Everyone knows that an infertile woman has absolutely no business perusing the baby clothes.  Ever.  I’m pretty sure there’s a law about it.

But let me be the first to tell you that there are loopholes to everything.  This is why God invented the gift card.  While I pretty much hate the thoughtlessness of a gift card, this seemed like as perfect as any a time to whip out my gift card abilities.  I even picked out a cute baby boy themed one.  And then got a card.  A CARD! (OK I had help from a very supportive friend in the selection of said card, but still.  I was standing right there and had to read it so I still thinks it counts as pretty bad ass.)

So no I’m not the worlds most awesome person, but I still did something I didn’t think I could do.  And sure, it didn’t actually have anything at all to do with babies once I dissected it down to a basic piece of plastic wrapped in a folded paper card, but….its the thought that counts??

Congrats Baby Maker on your newly acquired blue Target gift card.  O and that new baby thing you picked up too.

Moving on.

Where the hell have I been you ask?  Well?  I guess I don’t really have a good answer for that at all.  I’ve been here.  Last week would have been Ashley’s 2nd birthday.  That kinda took up my thoughts for a lot of the week, but I was trying really hard not to get all obsessed with it.  I know some might say I have a right to, but I just don’t want to.  You can’t move on if you’re stuck in the past and I want to have a good life AD.

That wasn’t meant to piss anyone off.  Some people definitely feel differently and that’s ok with me.  I just have a very hard time dwelling forever.  I do dwell for sure, but do I want to be celebrating Ashley’s 30th birthday all sad and wishing she was here?  No I don’t.  I hope that at that point I will be celebrating an alive birthday with an alive child/adult.  One who has filled my life with a ridiculous amount of joy and pain – teenagers – and made me feel full.  I want nothing more than to look forward to that rather than dwell on what is not.

That doesn’t mean I am not sad or don’t feel robbed.  Of course I do.  And I miss her.  And I wish I met her.  And I want to have that 2 year old little girl here right now.  But I think that part of healing is moving on.  And I’d like to think that is what I am doing. Right or wrong, this is my plan.

So that was my week last week.  While I was thinking quite a bit about my baby, I also got to think about the baby shower that was planned for Thursday at work.  Awesome right?  Well lucky lucky me, it got moved to tomorrow.  And as my luck is clearly overflowing these days, the pregnant mom to be actually went into labor today and the shower is canceled altogether.  I completely dodged that bullet!!

I should probably run out and buy some lottery tickets and have sex with my husband like normal people in hopes of making a life…

You cut the phone and I’ll grab the baby. Not sure why we’re cutting the phone…

I’m kinda feelin like goin all Raisin Arizona on that octuplet chick.

I mean really?  Really?  There aren’t 14 other couples out there far more deserving of this blessing?  Take…o say ME for instance??  Have I not shown enough unnecessary weight gain desperation?

So yeah.  I’m totally bitter.  This bitch has 14 children she cannot support.  Lives at home with her Mother who lost her own house so therefore also cannot support her and her baseball team.  There is no father.  I mean this all sounds so fucking ridiculous that the only thing that would make this worse would be if we were to all find out that she was planning to purchase a couple of monkeys to help with the raisin.

Sorry.  I know I should understand the need to have children.  And I know I should be more supportive of her infertility wishes.  But I’m not.  I can’t.  14 children.  14 disappointed couples barely hanging on out there with no children.  14 babies with a mother that clearly has mental stability issues, wants money/attention/fame/a book deal/to film her own version of a dozen clowns coming out of her beetle uterus for shiggles.

OK I’m done.  Not really.  But I don’t feel like typing anymore.

She wouldn’t miss 1 or 2 right?  After 10 they all look the same?


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