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July 26, 2017


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Although I am just beginning my ART journey (we begin IUI this April) we have been TTC unsuccessfully for 2 years. I can completely relate to the feelings of isolation, especially within my own social network with friends and even some family. This is complicated by the fact that my husband wants to keep our infertility details private with the expectation of our best friends who happen to be a couple starting their own IVF cycle next month.It seems like everyone I know is having a baby, my closest group of girlfriends are either pregnant or on baby number 2. I am the odd one out now, every conversation is centered around their growing bellies and the cute things their toddlers are now doing. And while I still show up for our girl's nights and weekend getaways I am completely miserable in their company. It's so hard to keep that green eyed monster at bay. And although they do occasionally ask how I am doing it feels somewhat superficial- they're asking but I truly feel like they don't really want to know. It's the oddest thing, how infertility can suck the confidence right out of you, maybe they do want to know? I'm torn between pouring my heart out or keeping it all in. I've become so sensitive over the last year when someone says the wrong thing- you know when someone says to "still no baby." Gah! Anyways- I seem to be rambling on here. We are currently in the thick of winter where I live and so I decided to bust out my very dusty pair of cross country skies, I bought myself a ski pass and have just joined a re-fresher course on long distance skiing. It's a start to finding a distraction, I'm hopeful it will provide some much needed respite because I'm anxious about what this ART journey will be like and where it will lead us.

Don't Count Your Eggs

Wow, just reading these comments makes me so amazed at what you all are going through. Jenny-- the art therapy sounds great, your surgery does not-- hope you are doing well. Katy-- I mean, the losses you've endured, I don't even know what to say other than how amazing it is that you channelled your energy into those pups. My heart goes out to you. Pamela-- you are incredible and my fingers and toes are crossed for you sister! Heather-- I'm going to heck out that book, thank you! Italy sounds delicious. Love and luck to you all.


I started taking an art therapy class. I've always wanted to paint and this is a class with zero judgement, a chance to fool around with paint. I recently had surgery for severe Asherman's syndrome due to birth complications following IVF and a scary pregnancy. The first thing I painted was all pink and whispy. I realized halfway through painting it that it represented my scarred uterus. Painting felt healing, like processing the whole thing with a different and underused part of my brain.


This resonates so much. After I lost my first daughter at 24 weeks, I was determined to take back my life because up until that point, I was afraid of getting involved in anything just in case I had to quit because I was pregnant. So, I pursued a new job and I started volunteering at the SPCA. Then, last year, when I got pregnant again, around 20 weeks, I had to quit volunteering, just like I thought I would. When we lost that little girl at 27 weeks, I also left that job.
It took me forever to get back into volunteering at the SPCA because I wanted to be pregnant again so bad and I knew that I would need to quit volunteering much earlier this time if I did get pregnant. But as months passed, and there was no positive pregnancy test, I realized that I needed to get out of the house, to focus on things I love, or I would slowly drive myself crazy.
The funny thing is that people know me either as the girl who has had multiple pregnancy losses, or the dog lady. And I find that having that second identity eases the people around me. Because who doesn't like talking about dogs?

Pamela O

It's just so hard to find perspective when you are at a place in life where you are so ready for ONE THING (the most natural and life-changing thing there is, at that), and that thing is denied you and denied you and denied you. You're limited in where you can go and what you can do, and anyway, "trying something new" feels not only like "cheating" on your primary goal, but also financially reckless since all your finances are also going to that ONE THING.

It's a special kind of hell, truly.

I was lucky in that ballet classes are pretty cheap here, and pick-up soccer is mostly free, and writing a novel is also "free" except how much time it takes. But so often I feel too distracted to write, and of course when I'm in the thick of a given fertility treatment, I can't do much in the way of athletic stuff, either.

We got a cat, and I have a little veranda garden. And I have nephews and friend's kids to play with sometimes. But yeah, that feeling of having nothing much to say because I don't want to talk about what's really on my mind... Yep. I've been living that for a while now. I used to consider myself a pretty interesting person. Not so much these days. I mean, what I'm doing is reasonably interesting, but no one wants to hear about it. So, if a tree falls in the woods...

I have a big party to go to tonight, and last time I met up with these folks (my husband's colleagues), two of them were pregnant. They probably both have babies now. They'll all want to chat with me, and I'll have nothing much to talk about. It's Oklahoma, and I'm a flaming liberal, so politics is probably mostly off the table. I did go to California recently -- for an embryo transfer -- but I guess I can talk about the other stuff I did while I was there. I was never good at small talk even in my best days.

And I may or may not be pregnant (betas were good, waiting on ultrasound in 10 days), so I'll obviously be completely ignoring the elephant in my room.

Anyway. I hear ya.


Such a great reminder to not lose ourselves - this time around I took a long break, went back to the gym to find my strength again (physically, emotionally, and spiritually), went to Italy with my husband (something we always wanted to do), and visited family and friends in different cities. I feel SO much better as a person, my well feels full again. I loved the quote from the book - I can relate so much. Another good book is "Stick it to me, baby: inserting spirit into the science of infertility" by Danica Thornberry (acupuncturist). Great set of stories and anecdotes, along with reminders about seeing the greater purpose in all of this.

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