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Archive for the ‘When did I turn into this evil crazy woman???’ Category

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Last week, I met up with a bunch of Stirrup Queens (Mel, LJ, Murgdan, Barren, N, J… am I missing anyone?) for ice cream.  Since it fell on a Thursday, my typical day to get to see Barren, but also a day when I was feeling particularly antisocial, the lovely Ms. Barren convinced me that it would be good for me to get out and go hang out with these lovely ladies for the evening.  So hang out I did, and she was right, I had a lovely time, as I knew I would, antisocial status and all.  (Nothing against anyone else – I just get into my little funks and I have a hard time getting out of them and when I’m there, I get antisocial – don’t take it personally).

But after we finished ice cream and we were disbanding, I told Barren I’d drive her home (it’s not entirely altruistic, mind you, it’s a selfish way to get to spend quality 1-on-1 time with her, but don’t tell her that!  It can be our little secret, okay?).  But first she had to run over to the bookstore with me to pick up a book that my therapist wanted me to read called: Stop Walking on Eggshells which was located in the section on “Personality Disorders.”

While perusing the shelves in search of my book, I stopped short, because this is what we saw:

Infertility Personality Disorders

What I found particularly humorous was that there wasn’t just one fertility book there – that could have just been a filing error (but, um, hello?  That’s one HECK of a filing error!) – but there were two!  The Fertility Diet AND Taking Charge of Your Fertility!  (Now, admittedly, I so despise TCOYF that I think it kind of does belong in the “personality disorders” section… or at least maybe I belonged in the personality disorders section after having read it, but I’m sure that was a bit of an overreaction on my part. )

Well, I always knew we were a little bit crazy.  It’s all those hormones.  Or maybe just the waiting.  Or the stupid things people say to us.  Yes, I think it’s that last one.  Like, “Just relax” or “if you just stop thinking about it or adopt, you’ll get pregnant.”  Or “Have you tried propping your hips up?”

Yes, those things would give anyone a little bit of a personality disorder, don’t you think?

 

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Ever since I got pregnant with my babies, I have endured an endless parade of questions dancing around the “Are they natural?” question. Most people simply come right out and ask it. Some people say, “Do multiples run in your family?” Some people say, “Did you know you were having triplets?” Others say, “Did you do fertility?” or “Did you take those pills?”

Personally, I find all of these questions offensive (with the possible exception of whether multiples run in my family, which I mostly brush off). I believe that asking me any question about how my children were conceived is flat-out rude and is akin to asking me about my sex-life. How would someone feel if my response to “are they natural?” was, “Did you have sex to have your singleton?” I’m quite certain most people would be quite taken aback, as well they should be. It’s not a polite question to ask, is it?

So there’s a prominent family in our community, and their daughter just had triplets a month ago. I was called upon to help them in a variety of ways. Their daughter came down to stay with them for the holiday (and probably will stay for several weeks afterward). We had lunch with them last week and it was lovely and I got to hold and feed the triplets and, well, I was in heaven. I do so love babies. It helped remind me of why I’m going through all this crap. I mean, not to have THREE at once. But that snuggly little baby. Oh yes.

Anyway, I mentioned to another friend that I’d had lunch there and she said, “Oh! Did you get to see the triplets?” Of course I did. “So, um, do you know if… well, you know, we’re all speculating… though I guess we really shouldn’t be, but you’d know better than any of us, whether they were – “

I cut her off right there.

“I wouldn’t answer that question, even if I did know the answer to that question. It’s not anyone’s business.”

I should mention that the friend I was speaking with is pregnant right now, with twins. This is her fourth pregnancy, a spontaneous, surprise pregnancy, with her fourth and fifth children.

I explained that the question is completely inappropriate and, in my opinion, is akin to asking about someone’s sex life because it’s asking about the conception of one’s children. “No it’s not! It’s completely different! There’s nothing wrong with that question!” She insisted. Furthermore, she said, “People ask me all the time if I did fertility treatment to have my twins and it doesn’t bother me a bit!”

“That’s because you didn’t do fertility treatment.”
“That’s not true!”
“You did do fertility treatment?”
“No, I didn’t. But if I did, I wouldn’t mind people asking me.”

Yeah.

I wrote about her earlier, actually. When I’d first found out she was pregnant. I couldn’t find the post to link to it. But she’s one of the sweetest, most generous, most supportive people I know. But she’s also one of the most clueless people I know when it comes to this stuff. She never could understand why I was petrified throughout my HOM pregnancy despite the fact that she was there through the times I was in and out of the hospital for preterm labor and through all the monitoring and bed rest and scary stuff that happened to me. But when I got to the end and had healthy babies her answer was, “See? You had healthy babies just like I said you would, I told you you shouldn’t be so worried.”

Right.

Here’s the thing. If you acknowledge that you’re speculating about something behind somebody’s back. And you acknowledge that you probably shouldn’t be. And if you’re not willing to walk straight up to that person and simply ask them the question outright, then surely you must recognize and acknowledge that there is something indecent and inappropriate about the question in the first place, don’t you??

The family isn’t sharing the details, and it’s none of anyone’s business. I know that I’m a bit of an enigma because I don’t exactly hide the fact that we did fertility treatment to get our three. But you know? There wasn’t really any hiding it anyway. We went through five years and a foster son before having HOMs – I’m pretty sure everyone figured it out!!! They’re not as dumb as I’d like to think they are. So I don’t hide it. But neither do I bring it up as casual dinner conversation, either, unless I’m with fellow infertiles or people who “get it.” It’s not something I expect people to bring up by asking if my children are natural.

All babies are natural. There’s no such thing as a baby made out of space-age polymer.

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I’m going to say something that’s going to sound absolutely contrary to common sense. I do realize that I’m taking Lupron every day and that likely has something to do with my lack of sense right now and I probably shouldn’t be held responsible for my actions. Hell, being on Lupron should be reason enough to keep me away from a keyboard at all times, lest I do something stupid, like type something as nonesensical as I’m about to type. But, alas, if I kept myself away from the keyboard every time I was on Lupron, how would I fill the (virtual) pages of my blog? How would I keep my faithful readers on the edges of your seats?

No, I simply cannot stay away from the keyboard every time I’m shooting myself up with that G-dforsaken drug. That wouldn’t be fun for anyone, would it?

ANYWAY. On to my complete lack of logic.

I am petrified to get pregnant.

No, really! I am. I’ve had such a phenomenally crappy year that… I just… There’s this huge piece of me that just feels like it just couldn’t turn out well right now if I did get pregnant. But then again? Part of the crappiness this year has been the NOT getting pregnant and the canceled cycle, etc. So I dunno.

It’s really stupid, I know. But there’s also the fact that my two pregnancy experiences weren’t… great. The first one I bled for the entire first trimester and then miscarried a day into the second trimester. The second one was an HOM pregnancy in which I went into preterm labor at 17 weeks and spent most of the pregnancy petrified of losing all of the babies. I know that we’re doing everything right this time to avoid exactly that scenario, but there is good reason to believe I won’t necessarily have the easiest of pregnancies. You know, if I actually got pregnant in the first place, and if it lasted long enough to get to be crappy.

Sigh. I know that I’ll be ecstatic if I get pregnant and devastated if I don’t, so this is probably an exercise in frustration and futility. I don’t know why I’m even whining about it.

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I am such a nerd that I have created a separate twitter just for IF-related updates. My twitter username for said updates is, predictably, notaclowncar, so feel free to add me there if you wish (I haven’t changed it in the sidebar, and I have the clowncar twitters protected).

Anyway, I keep wanting to tweet IF related things, but I can’t because my chezperky twitter acct. is followed by too many real life friends and links to my facebook status… so… I made a separate account.

Because I’m a nerd.

But I’m a 21st century girl and I believe in taking full advantage of the Web 2.0 culture, so there you go!

Off to bed with me.

Oh, by the way, my cleaning lady? Or, ex-cleaning lady, I should say, left me a message saying she’d still like to clean my kitchen for Pesach (at no charge to me) this week. One thing she IS very good at is turning things over for Pesach. Tempting…

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So the good news is that I confirmed with my doctor that I am doing a 20-10 decrease on the Lupron once I start the stim protocol. My poor nurse. I made her check with him about 6 times. “But you’re sure he knows that last time I did 20-20, right?” “No, I mean, really sure because I think he thinks I did 20-5.” “Okay, but you’re absolutely certain that my record reflects 20-20, right?” “I mean, definitely he knows I did 20-20, and even though he said increase on the phone, he actually meant decrease, right? He *does* know what he’s doing, right? RIGHT?”

Um.

Not like I didn’t think SuperDoc knew what he was doing or anything.

I, um. I mean. Of course SuperDoc knows what he’s doing!

Um.

Ohmygod whatthehelliswrongwithme? When did I turn into *that* patient? I must be stopped. Hopefully they just think it’s the Lupron talking? Maybe they just think I’m a little knackered? A lot? Surely they *must* know these drugs make their patients crazy, we don’t all start out this way. Right?

The bad news is my head hurts. Shocker. Maybe when I decrease to 10units, life will be dandy again. I can dream, right?

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